Catoctin Mountain Park Historic Resource Study

Introduction

A debate among historians continues to rage as to whether Franklin D. Roosevelt's New Deal (1933-1940) represented revolutionary change or simply evolutionary reform. While the debate will go on, from the standpoint of the Catoctin Mountain area, the changes brought during the New Deal were revolutionary. The government--once playing only a distant role--became a central player in the lives of the people in the region. Older conceptions of self reliance and independence died along the way. The process of change, however, was hardly smooth. Indeed, the confusing and frequently chaotic nature of the New Deal often poisoned the transition and created problems where none need have existed. This is particularly evident in the case of relations between the government and land holders in the area under development. Chapter 5 traces these revolutionary changes, from the economic collapse beginning in 1930, through to the planning and early development of Catoctin Recreational Demonstration Area.

The Depression in Washington and Frederick Counties

While the nation experienced great prosperity during the 1920s, farming areas, such as those in Frederick and Washington counties, lagged behind the rest of the county. But the flourishing industries of the 1920s were the first to feel the sting of the economic collapse that began with the stock market crash. Western Marylanders initially hoped that, by virtue of having few industries (except in Hagerstown), they might escape the worst ravages of the Depression. Such hopes, however, failed to survive even the first year of the Depression. [1]

The first signs of trouble came with an unusually hot and dry spring in 1930. On May 4, 1930, a fire broke out near Fishing Creek and quickly spread northward. Stoked by dry conditions and shift winds, the blaze quickly spiraled out of control and threatened the school and homes at Phillips Delight as well as the Richey fishing camp near Catoctin Furnace. Some 125 volunteers labored for more than three days to control the fire. The Frederick News declared the blaze "the most disastrous in the history of Frederick County." Within four days, fire fighters had conquered the flames, but they destroyed several thousand acres, along with 15,000 young trees recently planted by the Isaak Walton League. [2]

Natural disaster, however, did not stop there. The dry heat only worsened with the coming of summer. Soon a terrible drought overtook the region. Day after day followed of one hundred degree temperatures and no rain. By late summer, few could deny that the drought was the worst in recent memory. In August, the Frederick News recalled that only a few months before there was "every indication that we would go through the slump with very little trouble. But along comes the drought, which cripples our major industry, agriculture." Describing the "short term outlook" as "depressing," the newspaper forecasted "visions of hard times . . . with winter approaching." [3] Weeks later, Professor T.B. Symons, of the University of Maryland Agricultural Extension Service, a state agency mandated by the federal government to "assist the farmer and his family . . . in every phase of agricultural and rural home life," declared that Maryland farmers were suffering their worst setback in history. Meanwhile, losses continued to mount. [4] Into September, temperatures continued to peak in the hundred-degree range. In October, Smithburg High School in Washington County temporarily shut its doors as the reservoir on South Mountain, upon which the school depended for drinking water, went dry. [5] Ultimately, state officials estimated Frederick County drought losses at more than four million dollars. [6]

Coming as it did, on the heels of the industrial and banking collapse, the drought had far reaching consequences. Farmers--in desperate need of credit to make up for drought losses--had nowhere to turn. The chair of a state committee on drought relief regretted that "there seems no legal way of getting money to aid the farm laborers and some farmers who have no credit." [7] Without access to the meager dollars that supported the local farm economy, a downward spiral began. Many farmers both hired and worked as temporary farm laborers, usually at a scale of roughly a dollar a day for a ten-hour day. [8] But with few spare dollars, this fragile system collapsed. [9]

Farmers could only cling to the hope that the drought and declining productivity eventually would give food prices a much needed boost. Yet with farmers elsewhere in the country continuing to increase their production, the price of wheat and other farm products continued to decline. The drought in fact meant that Catoctin-area farmers had less to sell at lower prices. [10]

Fears grew as colder weather approached. The condition of the poor, warned the Frederick News, "will be very difficult this winter." The paper called upon local charities to gear up for a daunting task. [11] Even before the worst of winter arrived, appeals for food and clothing from those in need overwhelmed the Frederick County Children's Aid Association. [12] County officials--seeking to coordinate relief efforts--created the Frederick County Drought Emergency Association in November, 1930.

Neither Washington County nor Frederick County could look much beyond private charities to deal with the growing need for relief. There was little tradition of using government--certainly not the federal government--to address such problems. As the Depression set in, recalled the Maryland Board of State Aid and Charities in 1935, "the opinion was held generally that the way to meet relief needs was through private agencies and voluntary relief." [13]

In Frederick County, for instance, the only real program for the poor remained the old almshouse--a decidedly nineteenth-century (or even eighteenth-century) institution. Located outside Frederick City, the Montevue almshouse, a "rather pretentious looking five story building," on a 96-acre farm, housed roughly 150 "inmates," many of whom were elderly or "suffering some chronic physical or mental disability." But Montevue also housed persons simply down on their luck, including "inmates" as young as three. [14] The onset of the Depression quickly overwhelmed the almshouse. By February of 1931, the number of "transients" seeking help at Montevue was "breaking all records." And those seeking relief were hardly the traditional poor. These new poor were "well dressed," most claiming that they never before asked for charity. [15] Most of the county's poor, however, never saw the inside of Montevue. Instead, they continued to rely on a loose network of local charities. But these such organizations also quickly found themselves stretched to their limits.

Pressed by the growing need, the Frederick County Drought Emergency Association struggled to provide whatever relief possible. The association coordinated the efforts of local charitable organizations, such as the Red Cross and Salvation Army. Over the difficult winter of 1930-1931, the association managed to distribute 7,000 loaves of bread, 1,200 loads of wood, and 3,000 quarts of milk. [16] Recognizing the continuing need, county officials, in 1931, reorganized the Drought Emergency Association as the permanent County Emergency Relief Association. [17]

Meanwhile local communities strove to coordinate and streamline their own charitable efforts. In Thurmont, representatives of relief associations gathered at the local high school, and, under the direction of Rev. J.S. Weybright, chairman of the Ministerial Association, planned relief efforts for the upcoming winter of 1931-1932. [18] The collapse of the Citizen's Trust Company of Frederick, along with its branches in Smithburg, Thurmont, and Emittsburg, in which investors saw their savings suddenly disappear, lent urgency to Weybright's work. [19]

Amid growing despair, there was some sense that "the government should take more active measures to keep people at work." [20] The county, in fact, did initiate a series of road building projects in an effort to put people back to work. The public road crews for the Catoctin and Thurmont districts included such familiar local names as Bussard, Harbaugh, Hauver, Eyler, and Wilhide. [21]

But for most in western Maryland, especially in the early days of the Depression, there remained an intense suspicion of such government aid--as well as an insistence that traditional values of self-reliance could see the area through the crisis. As the Catoctin Clarion newspaper declared: "Let us cease to whine about depression and devote ourselves to the diligent performance of our daily duties." [22]

A reliance on optimism and private charity, however, could not have provided much solace as county relief cases grew in number. Private charities simply could not keep up with the growing need. Facing another depression winter, the Frederick County Emergency Relief Association in 1932, called upon all employed workers to donate one day's pay a month to relief efforts. [23]

With little in the way of public or private relief, the individual often was left to cope any way possible. For most this meant tightening belts, raising a few more chickens, and perhaps cutting more timber from mountain lots to supplement coal furnaces over the winter. [24] Likewise, the cooperative traditions of mountain life took on renewed importance. Annual "butcherings," in which several families would gather to butcher livestock, continued, as did other cooperative practices. [25] Talk increased of the need to establish more formal farmer cooperatives to ease the increasing burden on the individual farmer. [26]

Faced with fewer and fewer opportunities to make money, moonshing remained a fixture of mountain life, especially before the repeal of Prohibition. Despite the recent tragedy at Blue Blazes, moonshiners continued to man their stills. In 1930, authorities raided a 1,000 gallon still west of Thurmont and seized 13,000 gallons of mash. One of those arrested had been a witness at the Hauver (Blue Blazes) murder trial. Two years later, police staged a similar raid on a 75-gallon still near Wolfsville . [27]

Those not engaged in illegal activity often sought escape in any form from the relentlessly troubled times. While children continued to find diversion at the popular swimming hole at Owen's Creek, adults might enjoy a twenty-five cent double feature at the State Theater on Water Street in Thurmont or visit the increasingly splashy spectacles put on by Wilbur Freeze at his Cozy Inn. On weekends, Freeze would fly hot air balloons or bury a man alive in a wooden box. Freeze's tireless efforts gave the Cozy an increasingly central role in Catoctin area social life. [28] One also could go dancing every evening at the Mountainside Inn in Sabillasville. [29] Later, perhaps to compete, Freeze opened his own Camp Cozy Nite Club, urging patrons to "Meet Your Friends at Camp Cozy." [30]

Faced with a struggling town, the enterprising leaders of Thurmont were eager to strike a blow against the collapsing economy. [31] In meetings and discussions among themselves, they pondered ways to bring economic recovery to their town. As increasingly is the case today when regions face economic difficulty, Thurmont's town leaders concluded that the answer lay in tourism. As an editorial in the local newspaper explained: "In a nutshell, the idea is to make a drive for the summer tourist trade in an effort to bring more people to Thurmont who in turn would put more dollars in the cash registers of every business in town." But despite the presence of "good hotels, excellent drinking water, cool summer days, good roads, fine transportation facilities and a variety of stores," Thurmont, the city leaders declared, needed more--in particular a swimming pool and tennis courts. [32] No doubt the city fathers recalled that swimming pools at Braddock Heights had attracted more than 11,000 paying swimmers the previous summer of 1932. [33] "Make Thurmont Attractive to Folks, and Folks will be Attracted to Thurmont," declared the proponents of tourism, who then initiated a poll of town citizens on the question of a municipal swimming pool and tennis courts. [34] Despite the eagerness of the town fathers, little support for sacrifice could be mustered in the midst of hard economic times. Undaunted and still eager to lighten the depression mood and attract visitors, town businessmen initiated a series of summer band concerts in the corner square of town in 1932. [35]

Yet it was a less harmonious event that summer that lingered in the minds of local citizens. In Washington, DC, veterans of World War I had gathered from around the country to press Congress for early payment of bonuses promised to every veteran. When Congress failed to pass the bonus bill, and the veterans, or Bonus Marchers, failed to leave the city, President Herbert Hoover--a frequent guest at Lawrence Richey's Catoctin Furnace fishing camp--ordered General Douglas MacArthur to corral the remaining marchers out of the city. The violent spectacle that followed upset the nation and did much to dash Hoover's hopes for reelection. Once out of the city, authorities hustled 2,000-3,000 marchers, including some women and African-Americans, north through Frederick County. Many spent the night at the Frederick County Fair Grounds, where the Maryland National Guard fed them 1,500 loaves of bread and 150 gallons of coffee. [36] Residents of the Catoctin area also remember seeing Bonus marchers camping in one of Hooker Lewis's fruit fields just south of Thurmont (current site of Bogley's Chevrolet). [37]

The horrific spectacle of the Bonus Marchers and continuing economic difficulties no doubt contributed to a growing sense of depression in the area. Soon the local newspaper in Thurmont was worrying that the "amazing decline in property values" have caused "many owners to allow home and places of business to fall into extremely poor condition." [38] Despite the traditional Republican conservatism of the area, residents were ready for change. On November 8, 1932, area voters overwhelmingly supported New York Governor Franklin D. Roosevelt for president. [39]

The New Deal in Western Maryland

Maryland's Governor Albert Ritchie, an ardent believer in small government and private welfare, long had resisted turning to the federal government for aid. But with other states lined up for funds flowing out of Washington in the early days of the New Deal, Ritchie, in April 1933, reluctantly added his request for federal aid. It was, as the Maryland Emergency Relief Administration, noted two years later, a major turning point:

"When Governor Ritchie, in April 1933, made his first request to the Federal Government for help in meeting the State's relief needs, it marked the end of an important chapter in the history of social welfare in Maryland. The machinery that proved ample in previous years of normalcy or prosperity was not equal to the load thrust upon it by the depression and the resources available for such an emergency had been exhausted. It was a situation Maryland had never found before--almost incredible to state authorities." [40]

The infusion of federal funds made an immediate difference to relief efforts in western Maryland and in the state in general. A statewide agency, the previously mentioned Maryland Emergency Relief Administration, took charge of state relief efforts. In Frederick County, the Emergency Relief Association morphed into the Frederick County Welfare Board, now coordinating both public and private relief efforts. From its headquarters in the Federated Charities Building on South Market Street in Frederick, the County Welfare Board screened Civilian Conservation Corps applicants, kept personnel files for public works projects, and distributed food and supplies. In the fall of 1933, the board distributed 3,000 pounds of federal government-supplied, surplus pork dispersed to 1,035 needy families in the county. [41] With Civil Works Administration money, the county also built an emergency hospital on the grounds of the Montevue farm, and, with Federal Emergency Relief Act funds, the Welfare Board began a rehabilitation project at Gambrill Park, which eventually employed 100 men. [42] The citizens of Western Maryland were grateful for the help. The mayor of Hagerstown soon was noting the "salubrious effect" of the New Deal on "morale of community." [43]

Despite the infusion of funds, needs continued to go unmet. Roughly three times as many young men applied for positions in the CCC as were available. [44] Likewise, money came in spurts and was subject to political pressures (as remained the case once the Catoctin project got underway). In mid1935, with Congress holding up relief legislation, the County Welfare Board suspended a project employing ten Thurmont men at the Graceham reservoir, and it sharply curtailed relief payments while it awaited a new infusion of funds. Confronted with the cutbacks, many continued to have no option other than to turn to the kindness of others. In Sabillasville, the parents of a chronically ill young girl made a public appeal for the four quarts of milk that she needed daily. [45]

Bessie Darling

A few short months after the inauguration of Franklin D. Roosevelt--while the Catoctin area remained very much mired in the Depression--a violent and gruesome murder occurred on Catoctin Mountain. The victim was Bessie Darling, a figure mentioned in the previous chapter as an example of a woman carving out a niche for herself in the emerging tourist trade in the Catoctin area. The grisly murder--an outgrowth of an unfortunate love triangle--immediately captivated the attention of people in western Maryland and beyond. Even today, the murder stirs an unusual amount of residual interest. Why the fascination? The answer seems tied to the hard times of the Depression. Seeking escape, everywhere people clambered for diversions. The newspapers of the time were packed with sensational stories of poisoned toasts, love affairs gone tragically wrong, and dramatic bank robberies. When Darling was murdered, she shared the headlines with Bonnie and Clyde and the Lindbergh baby kidnapping. In the midst of hard times, the salacious events surrounding her killing provided a shocking and voyeuristic spectacle, but also a compelling break from the daily grind of depression living.

Darling, of course, was a well-known figure in the Catoctin area. Most of the women who ran boarding houses were the wives of local farmers. But Darling was from Baltimore and thus appeared somewhat exotic and sophisticated to local residents. [46] Around 1929, Darling met and quickly became involved with George Schultz, a volatile official at the State Health Office in Baltimore. Her active social life clearly caught the attention of Catoctin locals. Likewise, Schultz's bad temper also drew notice. One Thurmont resident remembered that Schultz frequently drank, and, on one occasion, assaulted Darling during an argument in front of the Lantz post office. Other similar confrontations also apparently occurred. [47]

In 1933, tiring of Schultz's abuse, Darling evidently broke off the relationship and established a friendship with Charles A. Wolfe, a widower from Foxville. Instead of returning to Baltimore that winter, Darling decided to stay in Deerfield, perhaps to avoid Schultz. But her former beau appeared unable to recover from the end of the relationship, and the tragedy was set in motion.

On October 31, 1933, Schultz, carrying a .38 caliber pistol, took the Western Maryland Railroad mail route from Baltimore to Thurmont. Since the mail train made no stop in Deerfield, Shultz deboarded at Thurmont and hired Clarence Lide to drive him to the Valley View Manor. Lide noticed and inquired after the pistol. Shultz laughed and remarked that "he didn't know what he might run into." [48] Years later Lide continued to regret that he had not been more suspicious. [49]

That day, Darling was at the house with her employee, Mazie Willard, an 18-year-old hired by Darling to work at the hotel at the going rate of a dollar-a-day and board. Willard later recalled that, "The leaves were beautiful that fall, the petunias were blooming in the yard, and we had gathered bunches of leaves to put all through the house." [50]

Leaving Lide's taxi, Schultz slipped through the rear entrance of the hotel and demanded that Mazie take him to Darling (see Map 5). She led him up the stairs. Shultz entered Darling's door, locking it behind him. Darling, who, perhaps aware of the potential for trouble, had her own pistol nearby, made a mad grab for her gun. But before she could secure it, Shultz shot her dead. In a strange calm, the murderer emerged from the room and ordered the petrified teenage Mazie, to make him coffee. In one version of the story, he threw Mazie the ring that Darling apparently had returned to him, telling her "You can have that to remember her." [51] Shultz then sent Mazie to notify the authorities, and he began to disrobe. "When you come back," Shultz coldly informed Mazie, "you'll find the two of us dead." [52]

Mazie ran down the mountain and telephoned Sheriff Charles Crum, who immediately drove to the hotel, which he entered through the basement, since Shultz had locked all the doors. Inside, Crum found Darling dead in her nightgown and Shultz near death as a result of a self-inflicted wound. Dr. Morris Birely treated Shultz then sent him to the hospital in Frederick for further care. He then performed the required autopsy on Darling. News of the murder, complete with Shultz's cold conversation with Mazie, quickly spread. The Catoctin Clarion noted that the murder has "furnished ample conversational material for the residents of this and other sections of the state and country ever since it occurred early Tuesday morning." [53] The grisly killing on Halloween, the innocent victims, including Mazie, and the sordid details of the affair fit perfectly into the sensational style of the news of the day. However tragic, the sensation fascinated people and provided needed drama and diversion.

When Shultz had recovered enough to stand trial, throngs packed the courtroom. Sixty-six years later, Catoctin native Charles Anders, who managed to get into the trial, still vividly recalled the spectacle of Shultz sobbing on the stand before receiving an 18-year sentence. [54] For many in the local area--even those born years after the event--the Bessie Darling murder continues to be a subject of fascination, in part due to the efforts of local author George Wireman. Coming, as it did, in the dark hours of the depression, before the New Deal could be felt fully, the Darling murder and the sensation surrounding it, should be remembered not only for its lurid details, but also in the context of the difficult times.

Birth of the Park

While the community was reading and talking about the Darling murder, the New Deal's initial relief efforts were easing the Depression for many in central western Maryland. But relief was only one part of Roosevelt's broad plans. He also hoped to bring about economic recovery and initiate fundamental reform. The National Industrial Recovery Act (NIRA) aimed to replace business confusion with cooperation. The Agricultural Adjustment Administration (AAA), sought to address the problem of agricultural overproduction and falling prices by subsidizing farmers to produce less. Deeper problems of persistent poverty--especially in rural areas--were also on the New Deal agenda. Catoctin Mountain Park grew out of these efforts, in particular the aim of removing poor farmers from submarginal land.

But the birth and early life of the park resembled anything but tranquil and smooth reform. Indeed, the development of Catoctin Recreational Development Area might best be described as a chaotic battle between competing interests: competition between federal and state authorities, competition between and within federal agencies, and competition between government officials and the entrenched population who called the mountain home.

The idea of removing farmers from unproductive farms surfaced during the "farm crisis" of the 1920s. [55] As governor of New York, Franklin D. Roosevelt created a reforestation program involving the purchasing and transformation of abandon farms, a program that inspired the later creation of the Civilian Conservation Corps. [56] The state of Michigan had a similar initiative to purchase submarginal land for conversion into state forests. [57]

With the advent of the New Deal with its mandate finding solutions to the ever-worsening farm crisis, plans for rural resettlement and rehabilitation found a ready venue. Roosevelt appointed an interdepartmental Land Planning Committee to oversee resettlement of farmers from poor land. The committee included Interior Secretary Harold Ickes, Federal Emergency Relief Administration (FERA) chief Harry Hopkins and Conrad Wirth of the National Park Service (NPS). [58] Initial efforts took place in conjunction with FERA which had $500 million available for direct relief. The Land Planning Committee set overall policy, then, under a confusing and overlapping arrangement, the Land Policy Section of the Division of Program Planning of the Agricultural Adjustment Administration (part of the Department of Agriculture) managed the selection and purchasing of land (with Surplus Relief Corporation money). Once chosen and acquired, the redevelopment activities fell under the purview of FERA's Division of Rural Rehabilitation and Stranded Populations. [59] In practice these activities were even more decentralized, as much of the planning and rehabilitation often fell to the various states involved. Many states eventually formed State Rural Rehabilitation Corporations to carry out the work. [60]

It was in this confusing morass that Catoctin Mountain Park was conceived. Viewing the FERA's program as a unique opportunity to acquire land that would "provide a much needed recreation facility for large numbers of people," the Park Service threw itself into the land purchasing program in hopes of acquiring land for parks near urban areas. [61] Eventually, the NPS participated in the purchase and development of forty-six parks, known as Recreational Demonstration Areas, in twenty-four states. Once purchased and developed by the federal government, the lands, in most cases, were to be turned over to state governments. Conrad Wirth, then assistant director of the NPS Branch of Planning and Matt Huppuch, supervisor of the NPS Recreation Division clearly served as the spearheads for the Park Service's drive to harness resettlement land. [62] Other departments and agencies, including the Agricultural Department, which set up Agricultural Demonstration Projects, also established programs to develop acquired submarginal land.

As part of the NPS's search for recreational land, in April 1934, NPS Regional Officer H.E. Weatherwax conducted a preliminary survey of suitable sites in Maryland and recommended the purchase and development a number of areas, including South Mountain and land near Fort Frederick. He, however, did not mention the Catoctin Mountain area. [63]

The actual land selection decision for Maryland, however, fell to the State Cooperative Extension Service, under University of Maryland Professor T. B. Symons. Since 1914, the federal government had charged the extension services of each state with providing support services for the agricultural sector in conjunction with the federal Department of Agriculture and the state agricultural college. On May 15, 1934, A.W. Manchester, the regional director of the Cooperative Extension Service, wrote Symons: "I would consider it a great favor if you would take the responsibility in Maryland" for developing "a general plan" for the purchase and development of submarginal land, adding that "federal funds may be made available for the purchase of land." [64] The issue, in fact, had long concerned the professor, who in a January 1934 speech declared there to be "no sadder spectacle than an honest industrious man and his family endeavoring to make a living on poor land. . . . We have observed this for many years, but little has been done." Symons defined submarginal land as "steep shallow soil, lacking in drainage," and set about to locate such areas in Maryland ripe for rehabilitation. [65]

The University of Maryland professor, in his report that summer, identified the land on and around Catoctin Mountain as his top candidate for redevelopment. At Catoctin, he found "good roads," proximity to the nearby Appalachian trail, and Hunting Creek, which might be damned up in portions to create swimming pools (as had already been done at the boy scout camp). He also found farmers in economic distress, many on relief, and farm land "not yielding enough for families." [66] No doubt, the eagerness of Thurmont's town leaders to develop the tourist industry also lent interest.

Also of concern to Symons and others was the condition of area forests. The 10,000-acre park finally purchased by the government consisted, according to a NPS official, of an estimated 90% cut over forest tracts, and 10% "tillable land and pasture." Only a few inaccessible tracts still contained marketable timber. Between the tree harvesting and recent chestnut blight, the wooded areas on the mountain, without question, were in poor condition. [67] Observing the environmental situation, a Baltimore Sun reporter visiting the site in the fall of 1935 wrote: "Today whole groves of gray, ghostly trunks, stripped of bark and leaves, testify to the completeness of the destruction." [68]

At roughly the same time as Symons conducted his study, the National Resources Board--founded as part of the Executive Branch in early 1934 to study the nation's resources with an eye toward development and public works projects--launched its own extensive study of land use. The Resources Board assigned an inspector to study each state. [69] Mark Shoemaker, land consultant for the board, prepared the Maryland survey. As with Symons, the Catoctin area greatly appealed to Shoemaker. But unlike Symons, Shoemaker appeared contemptuous of the local population, whom he described as "of a very low grade." [70] Shoemaker's reaction to the Catoctin Mountain population mirrored contemporary myths about Appalachian mountain people. The extent to which other government officials shared his views is unclear, but such attitudes may have been responsible for some of the mistrust and tensions that later surfaced between the population and the government authorities.

The favorable reports coming from the mountain area north of Frederick City impressed the NPS Regional Office in Richmond, eager to steer resettlement projects toward recreational use. Tell Nicolet, an NPS district inspector, went north to monitor developments. But there, Nicolet clashed with state officials, especially Symons, whom the NPS suspected sought "complete control over all sub-marginal land activities." Nicolet and Symons openly quarreled at a meeting of the State Planning Commission, where the NPS official pressed members on the need for "a responsible state park agency" to maintain any area developed by the NPS. He also vigorously stressed the need for greater cooperation between state agencies. State officials seemed put off and complained of a "battle of personalities." An NPS official likened the spectacle of federal and state officials clashing over the resettlement issue to "five people [who] were fighting over one piece of pie." [71]

The tensions between state and federal officials, however, did not dull the park service's interest in Catoctin. Visiting the Catoctins in the fall of 1934, Nicolet saw both the mountain's poverty and the potential, offering "almost unlimited possibilities." He envisioned a Civilian Conservation Corps camp remaking the area into a park with handsome camp sites. [72] Meanwhile, the state of Maryland moved to placate federal officials by having State Forester F.W. Besley promise that his department would maintain all recreation areas developed by the federal government from submarginal land purchases. [73] This appeared enough to gain NPS support, and Symons sent a park service-endorsed proposal for the development of the Catoctin area to FERA's Land Planning Committee, which, approving the project, passed it onto the Agricultural Adjustment Administration's Land Program. On January 7, 1935, the AAA lent its approval to the project. [74]

But only a week later, A.W. Manchester, the regional director of the Department of Agriculture's state extension service, was having second thoughts--at least about the recreational aspect of the Catoctin project. He told a key official at the AAA that he regretted not setting up Catoctin as an "agricultural project," which he added would have been "more appropriate." Manchester may have recognized what many farmers in the Catoctin area still passionately insist: that there was agricultural potential on the mountain, given proper use and expert guidance. But with so many park officials already deeply involved in the project, Manchester commented that he "could not see how we could work that out without incurring their [the NPS] ill will." [75]

Regardless of Manchester's last minute regrets, the project quickly moved to the next stage. The NPS assigned as project manager Garland B. (Mike) Williams, a Petersburg, Virginia native and former land appraiser of the C&O Canal, who more recently served as Civil Works Administrator for the city of Petersburg. Meanwhile, the FERA assigned W.W. Simonds the job of managing land acquisition. [76]

The Ordeal of Acquisition, Part I

Simonds faced a daunting task. Supported by only a limited staff, his job was to appraise and acquire more than one hundred tracts of land initially covering over 20,000 acres (for maps of the park with its originally planned borders see Appendix 11). The sellers had a reputation for being conservative and traditionally suspicious of outsiders. Meanwhile, funding for the acquisitions was to come through a complex allocation process that involved several shifting government agencies. And the task was to be performed through persuasion rather than coercive means such as condemnation. As A.W. Manchester explained, "It would be contrary to the entire spirit and purpose of the program, to resort to general condemnation, as a mean to acquire land." [77] Despite the best hopes of those launching the acquisition effort, the process, in fact, did not go smoothly and in some cases resulted in lasting resentment.

In early 1934, a group of government acquisition officers arrived in Western Maryland to begin their difficult job. Hampered by over twelve inches of snow, the acquisitions team moved slowly at first, setting up initial operations in Frederick City and later, when conditions permitted, moving to the Cozy Inn in Thurmont. The first step involved interviewing twelve of the largest owners in the proposed area. While indicating a general willingness to sell at a fair price, the group demurred and "wanted time to talk over offers with families etc." [78] By March the snow began to clear but the caution of the land owners had not. Williams reported to his superiors a "reticence of the natives in these areas toward signing 'offers to sell' or 'options.'" The acquisition team, therefore, began moving ahead with appraisals after only a "verbal indication of willingness to sell." [79]

But the process of appraising land then asking for options also caused problems and resulted in delays. On April 21, NPS Regional Officer H.E. Weatherwax journeyed to Catoctin "to ascertain the reason why the project is not progressing as it should." Weatherwax noted that "regardless of how good an appraiser might be, it is very difficult in appraising cheap land, that is from $1 to $5 an acre, to make an absolutely perfect appraisal." Appraisers, according to Weatherwax, first should have ascertained the price at which owners were willing to sell. All the land then should have been evaluated, and the appraisals should have been verified by the regional appraiser. But at that point, the regional appraisal was actually two weeks late in getting to Catoctin, and Weatherwax appealed to Washington to do something "in order to speed up this project." [80]

By April, Mike Williams and the NPS, eager to get the project moving, had another--this time local--problem with which to contend. In charge of public relations, Williams devoted much of his initial work to lining up endorsements for the Catoctin project from the local community. He received enthusiastic endorsements from the YMCA, the Izaak Walton League, the Rotary Club of Hagerstown, the mayor of Frederick, and others. [81] But in the spring, word surfaced of grass-roots opposition to the project. The local community apparently was awash in "idle rumors, initiated by jokers in the local country stores." One rumor had the government planning to use the purchased land as target practice for the "big guns" at Fort Ritchie. Another involved a tunnel to be built under the mountain for traffic to Hagerstown.

The general secrecy surrounding the project might have contributed to the rumors. No public announcement yet had been made regarding the government's plans for the mountain, perhaps fueling the gossip. Williams quickly traced the problem to a Lantz mail carrier named Herman Hauver, who had spread some of the rumors and influenced his father, Albert Hauver, an 81-year-old local leader, against the project. The younger Hauver apparently feared that he would lose his mail delivery route and hence his job should the project go forth. Park officials spoke with the elder Hauver and felt that they had cleared up any misunderstandings. [82]

But problems quickly resurfaced with the Hauvers, whom project planners learned had contacted the Frederick County Commissioners "and expressed their intention of blocking the Government's program." Williams and his staff were particularly concerned that a mail carrier--a government official, presumably privy to inside information--was spreading the rumors. On April 15, Williams called an "emergency meeting" with the County Commissioners, the mayor of Frederick, and the head of the County Welfare Board. "It could readily be seen," Williams reported, "that the County Commissioners were opposed to the present administration," feared losing taxes if the area became a park, and worried that the government would condemn property. Williams explained the condemnation policy, and pressed the commissioners to tally up taxes collected from those on the mountain and weigh them against welfare costs, maintenance of roads, and other expenses. [83]

William's hardball tactics seemed enough to placate the county commissioners. [84] Meanwhile, the park service moved to neutralize the Hauvers. Informed of the problem, NPS Assistant Director Conrad Wirth, instructed Williams to "submit the address of the post office out of which Mr. Hauver works and we shall take the necessary action." [85] Still the Hauvers continued to cause trouble and in the fall, Albert Hauver's name showed up on a petition of those objecting "to the acquisition of land by the Government" (see Appendix 12). [86]

Meanwhile, bureaucratic turbulence continued to mount for the nascent Catoctin project. On April 30, 1935, under the Emergency Relief Act and Executive Order 7027, President Roosevelt transferred authority for the resettlement projects from the FERA and the Agriculture Department to a new independent agency called the Resettlement Administration, under Rexford Tugwell. [87] While the NPS was to remain intimately involved with the Recreational Demonstration Areas, ultimate responsibility now lay with the Resettlement Administration (See Appendix 13). Problems quickly developed. Tugwell later recounted "countless difficulties in operation" at his new agency. Not having been recognized by Congress, the Resettlement Administration remained dependent on funds allotted to other agencies, in particular the WPA. Tugwell's reputation as an extreme liberal may have also hurt him politically and cast a certain pall over all the resettlement initiatives. [88] Questions of precisely who would be in charge of RDA administration also quickly divided Tugwell and Ickes. [89] For the Catoctin project, the organizational changes meant adjustment to a new chain of command, although the NPS remained intimately involved.

Nor did problems with the local population ease. By the summer, acquisition officers were hitting real road blocks. The troubles threatened to derail the entire project. The Washington Post, getting wind of the problems, ran a front page story headlined, "Catoctin Park Plans Menaced as Owners Refuse to Sell Land." The article pointed to planned restrictions on hunting as the source of much of the resistance. [90] Without the option of condemning massive amounts of land, and with increasing numbers of landholders resisting, park service officials decided to sharply curtail the quantity of land to be purchased from circa 20,000 to 10,000 acres. Likewise, with acquisition proving a slow, complex process, requiring extensive research, Williams arranged to lease land from owners who signed "Temporary Special Use Permits." This allowed for the hiring of men (one of the principle purposes of the project) and the beginning of construction.

Construction and Labor at Catoctin, Part I

While land acquisition remained an entangled mess, Williams pressed ahead with his plans to begin construction of the park. Having secured enough land through lease agreements, Williams began interviewing prospective workers for the project. Since the primary goal of the project, along with providing urban dwellers with recreation, and addressing the problem of submarginal farms, was to furnish locals with work, most workers were to be taken from relief rolls. The newly inaugurated Works Progress Administration (WPA), part of the Emergency Relief Act of 1935, was to finance the Catoctin jobs. [91]

While offering those on relief the dignity of a job rather than just a handout, the WPA had its problems--in particular, bureaucratic confusion. Roosevelt chose Harry Hopkins over the more exacting Interior Secretary Harold Ickes to head the WPA. Hopkins' willingness to spend and belief in getting money to the needy as quickly as possible clearly appealed to the President. As Hopkins explained the worker "must be the first and last digit in all government accounting." [92] But the WPA's efforts immediately to employ millions--even before an organized structure or bureaucracy could be developed--caused problems. Critics complained of idle workers assigned to useless projects. Hopkins' insistence that the bulk of all WPA grants be spent on labor also ruffled feathers. Maryland WPA chief John Mackall, complaining that projects were not of "lasting value," actually resigned his post in 1935. [93] By the summer of 1935, an Associated Press reporter wrote of the WPA, this "summer finds the whole program lagging with key men at loggerheads and officials out in the states plainly bewildered." [94]

Williams had arrived in the Catoctin area confident that he easily could raise the needed labor from the "approximately 300 families on relief in and immediately adjacent to the area." [95] But, perhaps because of a mild recovery in the region, by November, 1935, Williams reported that there were "less than 100 men on federal relief within a radius of 15 miles of the project." [96] In need of several hundred laborers, the NPS turned to the idea of establishing a worker camp on the project grounds for transients to be employed on site. Plans went ahead for the construction of a camp on tract 91 capable of housing up to 200 men (see Map 5). [97] The camp was to be administered by the WPA Transient Bureau. [98] The preliminary project proposal for the Catoctin RDA included mention of the "work camp," and the Resettlement Administration established work hours and pay scales for both Catoctin's resident and nonresident workers. In order to "work off part of the cost of maintaining them," workers housed in camps would labor a 35-hour week, while nonresident workers were to work 30 hours. The cost of housing transients also was to be covered by an $8 to $12 dollar monthly deduction. [99]

For whatever reason, perhaps concerns about already-strained relations with locals, the transient camp never was built. Instead, project supervisors hired local workers off relief rolls and transported--sometimes at great distance--supplemental workers. This also caused some headaches when workers from Woodsboro, Maryland, complained that their transportation consisted of riding in the rear of subfreezing unheated trucks back and forth forty miles (see Appendix 14). [100] Also helping to ease the labor problem, the NPS managed to obtain "percentage exemptions" allowances that permitted the hiring of some non-relief roll workers, often workers with necessary special skills. [101] Resettlement Administration officials, in fact, critiqued Williams' original development plan for its over reliance on unskilled labor. [102]

On January 2, 1936, work began with fifty-five men cleaning up the general area in preparation for fire prevention work. Within a week, the WPA transferred twenty men from its fish hatchery project in Lewistown to join in work at Catoctin. [103] By spring, over 300 men were hard at work. [104] Alongside construction, destruction was central to development. Miles of old roads and fences (made of stones wrapped in wire) had to be obliterated. [105] Likewise thousands of blighted chestnuts required removal. Also there was the destruction of the farm buildings that dotted the area (although some, due to acquisition delays, had to be left standing temporarily). Salvageable items such as hinges, ironware, doors, and glassware went to the blacksmith or craft shops (once workers constructed these shops) for rehabilitation and use in construction. On-site saw mills also created needed lumber from the many trees felled to make way for construction (see Appendix 15). [106] WPA workers--some of whom were descendants of the original furnace workers--began a cleanup and excavation of the furnace site. The regional historian, however, fearing damage to the site, insisted that work be halted. [107]

With areas cleared, construction could begin. In the first year, attention focused on building support structures such as a central garage unit, a blacksmith shop, and a temporary administration building, containing office space for the project manager, clerical personnel, engineers, and draftsmen. Workers also graded land and built truck trails to allow vehicles access to construction sites. Most important, construction began on picnic areas and the first public camp, to be known as Misty Mount (see Map 5). Along with everything else, immense bureaucratic challenges persisted for Williams. Each individual project had to be numbered and described along with estimates of material costs and labor. Then the project manager had to submit the proposals to the NPS for approval. Individual Job Plan No. 203-A, for instance, involved the construction of a "vehicular bridge" over Hunting Creek. Williams set bridge labor costs at $79, and materials at $48.50. He also included a justification, noting it necessity to "provide access to the parking area." [108]

Delays in obtaining approval for projects and allocation of money also provided headaches for Williams. Eight months into construction, holdups in procuring approval for construction of a park road forced the project manager to lay off around 200 men. By the end of the month, the necessary permissions arrived, and Williams could hire the workers back. [109] Still, the lack of security kept life difficult for those working at Catoctin.

The Ordeal of Acquisition, Part II

Despite problems and layoffs, those in need both on Catoctin Mountain and in the surrounding environs clearly benefited from WPA employment. [110] But deep resentment of the projected lingered among some locals. At seven o'clock on Saturday morning, May 2, 1936, a fire of suspicious origins broke out on tract 307 of the project grounds. Shortly after, a second fire ignited on tract 116. Sometime later, the Foxville fire tower reported a third fire on tract 328. Although WPA workers had the day off, as word of the fires spread, they rushed to the project site to join in fighting the blazes--no doubt fearing the destruction could imperil their livelihoods. When high winds from the west threatened to fan flames, Mike Williams called for help from the CCC camps at Boonsboro and the Frederick City watershed. By three-thirty that afternoon, a combined force of 250 men finally tamed the conflagration. But questions smoldered. It appeared that someone purposely had set the fires, and officials suspected "disgruntled mountaineers." A $25 reward was offered for information leading to arrests. [111]

The State Forestry Department also hired the private investigation firm of Lancaster and Daugherty to look into the matter. Information gathered pointed to a group of mountain-area teenagers. Frederick county police aggressively questioned each implicated young man in succession at police headquarters. Despite sharp interrogation, each defiantly denied any role in setting the fires. Then police questioned the father of one of the youths, who actually had worked for the State Forestry Department. Like the boys, the man denied any knowledge of the origins of the fires. But he made his sympathies clear:

"the Government--if you call it that--I don't; I call it Russia--they came along here and wanted to get all of our land and they fooled some people and some people signed a waiver to let them have it and they have not paid them one cent; but, they took it and they have cut it up as soon as they got it. Now, they aren't going to pay for it; they have it under lease for five years. They came after and wanted me to agree to sell my farms and they suggested if we could not agree that they would appoint two men and I appoint one, and what they would say would be final in reference to the price and I told them no. I have been raised on this mountain and I am one of the first Fire Wardens and I am still one of them. . . . There will always be hungry people in these mountains, but there never were any hungry ones there before relief, and who is going to pay for it I don't know." [112]

Despite his harsh tone, the "mountaineer" had some valid points. Planners had not always been diplomatic or respectful of the residents of the mountain. For instance, in a widely quoted public statement the previous fall, L.C. Gray, a key administrator in the Resettlement Administration, said of the Catoctin land: "Today the land is of almost no value to anyone, most of it lying idle and unproductive." [113] Such comments could not have sat well with those who had struggled to make a living from the mountain. Likewise the mountaineer, quite correctly, asserted that most owners remained uncompensated--and yet construction was underway. In addition, circumstances had forced the government to resort to condemnation in a number of cases in which titles were too convoluted to allow for normal transfer. Even when every effort was made to put the condemnations in proper context, they inevitably caused suspicions in an era in which one's life earnings suddenly could disappear. To many Americans, especially during the Depression, bigness--whether big banks, big business, or big government—was suspect.

While the May 1936 fires were the last such open manifestation of resistance, the entire process of acquisition remained--as one local recalled--"a mess for a while." [114] The acquisition quagmire even became a political issue. In an attack on the New Deal-friendly Western Maryland congressman, David Lewis, The Cumberland Daily News, assailed the "excuse" issued by "the New Dealers" that trouble clearing up land titles was preventing the exercising of options. "The New Dealers," claimed the editorial, "are fooling the owners of the land." [115] In fact, procedural obstacles were slowing down the process and frustrating everyone. But some problems lay beyond the control of the project supervisors. For instance, at one point in the summer of 1936, the project's title abstracter, hired to research land deeds, disappeared for a month, supposedly sick. Infuriated officials later found him doing outside work in Allentown, Pennsylvania. [116]

By late 1937, the laborious acquisition process was slowing down construction. Williams postponed the planned construction of a water system for a new camp because contracts had yet to be closed on five important tracts of land. Having only managed to pay for only 65 of the 123 properties optioned, park officials complained that the office of the special attorney was holding up checks, and "meanwhile, of course, a tremendous amount of ill will has been created around the Project Area by these dilatory tactics." [117]

Perhaps also of concern to the local population, the Thurmont Bank, which held several mortgages on land in the project area, was eager to get the loans liquidated and worked with park acquisition officers to secure land. Because option prices were often higher than original amounts owed, mortgaged land owners still could end up making money, but the specter of the bank working with the government could not help but make locals uneasy. [118] When project planners briefly toyed with the idea of attempting again to acquire land south of Foxville, they were "confidentially informed . . . that foreclosure proceedings by the [resistant] lien holders would be instituted and title taken by persons more friendly toward the program." [119]

The ordeal of acquisition lasted well into 1939, when the U.S. District Court for the District of Maryland heard the case of the U.S. verses 810.3 acres of land situate in Frederick County, the State of Maryland, and Reuben A. McAfee, et al. Ultimately, the court ruled in favor of the condemnation of over forty tracts of land with titles too convoluted to sort out any other way. [120] The entire elongated process resulted in much lasting bad feeling. Even today, in the area around the park, popular opinion holds that the government, sometimes with the cooperation of banks, pressed people off their land. [121] But there is no evidence that the government acted with anything other than good--although occasionally sloppy executed--intentions. Cultural misunderstandings probably were inevitable. The general confusion and haste of New Deal programs only added to the potential for problems. In the end, it also must be remembered that acquisition officers, under the best of circumstances, have a very difficult job--that of persuading people to give up their homes. Nor was the Catoctin project unusual in experiencing problems. Other parks had even greater problems. Even in urban settings, such as Baltimore, planners of the Edgar Allan Poe housing project in the late 1930s found residents clinging to their dilapidated houses, and complaining of authorities who "ask us to sell at a quarter their value the homes we cherish." [122]

Construction and Labor at Catoctin, Part II

Despite the continuing acquisition problems, construction moved ahead. By early 1937, workers completed the first camp. An inspector declared the buildings to be "of the better class in RDP work. The materials, (chestnut logs and native stone) were particularly well chosen and the designs, following the local precedent, have been well executed." On June 25, 1937, ready to show off their new camp, project officials held an open house, dubbed "Thurmont Day," a sunup to sundown affair, in which visitors could walk through the newly completed Misty Mount grounds. [123]

Planning next shifted to the second camp, to be known as Greentop, a special needs site for disabled children (see Map 5). [124] The impetus for the camp came from the Baltimore-based Maryland League for Crippled Children (MLCC), an organization founded in 1927, as an outgrowth of the Council of Jewish Women. Aggressive fund-raisers, the organization managed to forge a personal relationship with President Roosevelt, who, of course, had every reason to be sympathetic to the group's cause. [125] The league also established an effective working relationship with the park service and contributed financially to the special equipment needed at the camp. [126] Construction began in 1937 and continued into the winter, during which work moved inside the cabins to avoid freezing weather." [127]

In the summer of 1938, 120 handicapped children enjoyed the new camp's specialized facilities. Meanwhile, nearly 300 workers began construction of the third camp, to be known as Hi-Catoctin (see Map 5). [128] As in every other phase of the project, bureaucratic entanglements often retarded progress. Federal dictates passed in 1937 required that an increased percentage of WPA laborers come from the relief rolls, hampering the hiring of much needed skilled workers. [129] The next year, as construction on the third camp moved ahead, Williams, in order to prevent "a number of men being thrown out of work," used a "nonowner operated" 2.5 ton truck to complete a job for which his supervisors had mandated a 1.5 ton truck at a lower cost. In what he later admitted was an "irregular payroll practice," Williams papered over the detail in his records. When discovered, the project supervisor was reprimanded, but investigators also noted that his "record of accomplishment on the project is excellent," and that his efforts to fabricate on site many of the materials needed in construction had eliminated the "necessity of many outside purchases." [130]

With the completion of Camp Hi-Catoctin later that year, planners turned to other projects (see Appendix 16). Envisioning a Lake Placid in the Catoctins, a Baltimore-based advisory committee for the Catoctin project recommended the development for winter sports of an area of the mountain known as "cold valley." But several "blue-bird" winters discouraged such plans. [131] Thoughts of refurbishing the Mt. Lent house, site of the Bessie Darling tragedy, as an overnight shelter for hikers, surfaced but were later shelved. [132] Planners also foresaw a "Wayside Day Use Area" at Catoctin Manor, which, unlike Mount Lent and "cold valley," later was completed with CCC labor. [133]

Use and Segregation

Maryland League for Crippled Children had been the first organized group to use Catoctin's facilities in 1937. The next year it moved into its own custom-designed camp at Greentop. The league's staff and administration immensely impressed park service inspectors, who complimented the "exceptionally cordial, cooperative spirit and interest evident by campers, staff, and help. An excellent job is being done by this organization." [134] Meanwhile, other groups took over Camp Misty Mount, including the girl and boy scouts, and such short-term users as the Recreational Association of the Bureau of Foreign and Domestic Commerce, who paid $5.25 for use of the camp, May 14-15, 1937 (see Appendix 17). [135]

While the project was finding enthusiastic users, one group appeared shut out--African Americans. While President Roosevelt was not a great supporter of civil rights, others in his administration, in particular his wife and Secretary of the Interior Harold Ickes, were eager to open New Deal programs and benefits to all. [136] Ickes appointed W.J. Trent as his "advisor on Negro affairs." From his office, Trent pressed the Park Service to consider African-American needs. With the New Deal-funded construction of over forty RDAs, Trent and others argued that some, perhaps including the Catoctin project, should include camps for African-Americans. A memorandum prepared by the Park Service on September 20, 1936 identified recreational and wayside projects "with the possibility for the development of Negro camping facilities." Surveyors designated most as either "all white" or "all colored." Catoctin, however, earned the designation as "possible for both white and colored" camping (See Appendix 18). [137]

In 1939, several prominent African-Americans from Baltimore began a campaign aimed at the construction of a crippled children's camp for African-Americans to be situated "adjacent to the camp now used . . . for white children." Officials from the Henry Watson Children's Aid Society, the Rose Ward Circle, and Willard W. Allen, a prominent African-American businessman from Baltimore, all joined the campaign. [138] But Park Service officials politely put off the lobbyists. They cited a lack of public works money for such an endeavor and suggested that "needs could be furnished in some area nearer to this population group, probably along the Bay or Potomac Shore in Southern Maryland." [139]

The "possibility" of African-American use again resurfaced in the 1940 master plan for the Catoctin RDA, which included a recommendation for "a comprehensive development outline for Negro use." [140] In the end, despite the efforts of an increasingly organized African-American community, both the labor force constructing the project and the early groups using the Catoctin park remained exclusively white.

The CCC in the Catoctins

From the earliest planning stages, National Park Service officials, such as Tell Nicolet, pictured a Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC) camp at Catoctin. The CCC, a brainchild of President Roosevelt himself, was one of the most memorable and popular of the New Deal programs. Congress passed the program--originally called Emergency Conservation Work--during FDR's whirlwind first 100 days in office. By the summer of 1933, the CCC had enrolled 270,000 young single men, between the age of 18 and 25, to work in 1330 camps around the country. Enrollees signed up for a renewable six-month stint, which began with a three-week conditioning program, usually on a military base. Pay was a monthly thirty dollars, twenty-two of which enrollees had to send home. Peak enrollment came in 1935, when 500,000 filled the ranks of the organization, jointly administered by the Army, Labor, Agriculture, Interior Departments. [141]

In early 1936, CCC officials gave approval for a future CCC "expansion camp" at Catoctin. [142] But, with a mandate to provide work for the local community and the CCC undergoing cutbacks, the Park Service deferred plans for the Catoctin camp and began development with WPA labor. [143] Nevertheless, the CCC was an active part of life around Catoctin Mountain. The Department of Agriculture administered a camp focusing on fire prevention just to the south of Catoctin on Fishing Creek. On at least two occasions, Fishing Creek corps members helped fight fires on project grounds. [144]

Despite the deferment, the NPS still hoped to establish a Catoctin CCC camp and planned WPA construction according. As one NPS official explained in 1937, "most of our straight labor projects have been put aside on the supposition that eventually a CCC camp would be attained." With much of the heavier construction completed, park officials began searching for a suitable site on project grounds for a camp. By late 1937, the supervisors selected a locale near the project office, north of the central garage unit, and adjacent to a 75,000-storage tank capable of providing an unlimited supply of water (See Appendix 19). [145] It would be, however, almost two years before a CCC camp could be assigned to Catoctin.

By 1939, the depression in Central Western Maryland had eased thus thinning the ranks of relief workers. Meanwhile, Congress merged the CCC into the Federal Security Agency, and, in the process, also allotted funds for 245 new camps. Catoctin quickly moved to the top of the priority list, and, early in 1939, along with Otter Creek, Kentucky, selection officers assigned to the western Maryland RDA a CCC camp. [146]

In late April, an advanced detachment of 35 men and one officer arrived in Thurmont to scout the site and work to be done. The men were from CCC Company 1374, situated for the past four years (or, in CCC parlance, eight terms) at Quantico, VA, where they constructed cabins for the Washington Recreational Demonstration Area. Before their work at Quantico, the company worked at Clifton Forge and Douthat State Park both in Virginia. Although some members of the company hailed from Maryland and Virginia, most actually came from Pennsylvania--some from Philadelphia, but most from the coal-mining regions of Central Pennsylvania. [147]

Within a few days, the rest of company arrived, numbering nearly 200 young men, most between ages 17 and 29. The men lived in tents while they constructed a company camp. Living roughly four men to a tent, the corps members dug a latrine and setup portable toilets, awaiting the construction of a water system. Within weeks, the young men had finished their new camp, complete with utilities and a water system. [148] Hardly fancy, the major buildings were prefabricated, portable barracks. The standard CCC camp in 1939 consisted of twenty-four structures, including several dormitories, a recreation hall, a garage for CCC vehicles, a mess hall, an administrative center, and a separate residence for the camp superintendent. [149] The recreation hall included a small canteen, where corps members could buy candy and soda. [150] Red brick walkways connected the structures. [151]

Company staff consisted of a company commander, a camp superintendent, a medical doctor, two senior foremen, a junior foreman, two foremen, a toolkeeper and sharpener, a mechanic, an educational advisor, seven assistant camps leaders, and nine assistant project leaders. [152]

Although the CCC--by taking young men off the streets and giving them jobs--clearly served the cause of relief, park service officials, such as Conrad Wirth, insisted that it was "primarily a conservation program." [153] As such, much of the CCC's initial work at Catoctin focused on blazing trails, reforestation, and improving Hunting and Owen's Creeks. Work on the creeks generally involved clearing the creek of obstructions and building small dams for fish. [154] Corps members also prepared chestnut rails for use at Gettysburg Memorial Battlefield, where an African-American CCC company was stationed. [155]

In addition, road construction was also a priority for Camp 1374 at Catoctin. Members frequently worked "road crew" detail, which involved laying stones and clearing brush from the road side. [156] Other work centered on the construction of a home for the project supervisor, a lone ranger station, and on digging water for the Blue Blazes contact station and camp Hi-Catoctin. In 1939, members also left the park to help construct a recreation center in Thurmont. [157]

The arrival of Company 1374 did not bring an end to WPA work at Catoctin, although the number of relief workers did steadily decline from 291 in the summer of 1939. [158] Often WPA and CCC workers would labor side by side as was the case in the spring of 1940, when 75 locals joined 200 corps members to resurface the central road from Thurmont to the park. [159]

Through 1940 into 1941, CCC work continued at Catoctin. By the summer of 1941, a camp inspector could report that corps members had built 12.5 miles of power lines, a water supply system, the custodian's residence, two sewage systems, 4.5 miles of foot trails, one retaining wall (built along old route 15), a bath house, four drinking fountains, .3 miles of roads, a filter system, two trail-side shelters (on the Appalachian Trail), and a forest fire danger station. In addition, the young workers planted 1500 trees and shrubs, seeded five acres, developed 400 acres and 25 miles of fire hazard reduction, committed 500 man days in emergency work, 1500 man-days in preparation and transportation of materials, and 180 man-days to fighting forest fires. [160]

Of their various duties, fighting forest fires, no doubt, presented the gravest challenges. In 1939, CCC members battled a blaze near Mount Lent all night. The young men used shovels, hoses, and water tanks that some members carried on their backs. [161] The most threatening fire occurred within the camp itself. On a Sunday morning in November 1941 (just as the corps was winding up its overall work at Catoctin), the equipment garages holding several large trucks burnt to the ground. The fire destroyed the enclosed trucks, and for the rest of their stay, the corps depended on trucks borrowed from other camps. Investigators never discovered the true cause of the fire, but corps members suspected that a stray cigarette following the weekly Saturday night outing to Hagerstown may have been the culprit. [162]

Heavily structured, the CCC work week consisted of 40 hours. As a member of Company 1374 recalled, a bugler "called us to meal time, sounded retreat, and woke us up in the morning." [163] Catoctin enrollees rose at six in the morning, and, by eight, after a hearty breakfast, were at work until noon. After an hour for lunch, they returned and worked until 4pm. Under the command of the army, regulations required enrollees to appear at daily roll calls wearing ties in summer and full suits in cooler weather. [164] Each enrollee had a bunk in the barracks and an individual trunk in which to keep personal articles. The bunk was to be kept up to military standards of cleanliness and order. Coal stoves heated the barracks, and one company member suffered the difficult job of keeping the stoves fired. Under the best of circumstances the barracks could get very cold. [165]

Company chefs served plain but "plentiful" fare in the camp mess. [166] Former members remembered food as "wholesome." Cooks, themselves CCC members, received special training in Pennsylvania. By 1941, with the camp firmly established, bakers prepared bread, rolls, cakes, and pastries right in camp. Camp truck drivers often delivered meals to men working in the fields. [167] Enrollees also enjoyed occasional extras such as when in January of 1941, chefs added sixteen gallons of oysters and four pounds of Italian cheese to spice up bland CCC diets. But overall food remained simple. For instance, the camp menu on Friday August 25, 1939 consisted of:

On January 27, 1941:

The CCC--while clearly a conservation and employment program--also had a strong educational component. The camp had an education advisor, and each enrollee received at least six hours of training a week. After work, enrollees attended vocational and educational classes given in a number of subject areas. In the summer of 1939, the majority of the 191 members of Company 1374 learned at roughly a seventh grade level, and hence "instruction and material is developed accordingly." Course work included reading, writing, arithmetic, spelling, history, carpentry, painting, electricity, surveying, transportation, and woodworking. Camp administrators looked forward to the completion of a company education building that would allow classes in photography, lathe work, bookkeeping, shorthand, business English, and geography. The company had at its disposal a 16 mm sound projector, a film strip projector, and a library with 1500 volumes. While at Catoctin, the company even had its own newspaper, "The Mountaineer." [168] Some enrollees also attended night school in Hagerstown. Howard Rothmel, a company member in 1939, for instance, attended a mechanics course in Hagerstown, a course he found "helped out later" during World War II. [169]

Nearly two years later, with the education building completed, study areas had expanded greatly to included aviation, typewriting, first aid, photography, auto mechanics, and radio servicing among other subjects. The majority of company members now learned at high school level, allowing classes to delve into more advanced subjects. In addition, a new preoccupation took over the CCC--military preparedness. With the war in Europe raging, a long debate over military training in the CCC was won by those in favor of preparedness. [170] Military drilling took place at the camp, and 62 members of the company attended national defense classes at Hagerstown High School. An indication of changing times, sixteen company members trained in acetylene welding were recommended for jobs at the expanding Fairchild Aircraft Corporation in Hagerstown. [171]

When not working, sleeping, nor learning, enrollees enjoyed a number of other activities. There were occasional trips to the Gettysburg Battlefield. [172] Camp supervisors showed two movies a week and broadcast sporting events over the public address system. In the winter season, the young men could enjoy darts, pool, and ping-pong in the recreation hall. The company partook in a local basketball league as well. With excellent recreational facilities at its disposal, baseball, softball, volleyball, swimming, and horseshoe pitching appear to have been camp Catoctin's favorite warm weather pastimes. In baseball, the company found a taste of distinction. [173] Convenient for practices, a baseball diamond sat right next to the camp (southeast side of camp). [174] Within weeks of its arrival at the camp, Company 1374 began dominating the local baseball leagues. The Company 1374 team, calling themselves, the Catoctin Buccaneers, tore through its opposition, including Frederick County WPA teams and the Boonsboro, Maryland CCC camp. The Buccaneers soon won recognition in the national CCC newspaper Happy Days. [175] Alongside baseball, several members of the company also exhibited prowess in the boxing ring. One particular boxer, known as Smity, traveled successfully to several different camps for bouts. [176]

Less taxing recreation might involve a hike around the mountain, or a visit to the Foxville General Store for a five cent soda. [177] Weekends offered the company the opportunity to get into town. Enrollees could go into Thurmont for Sunday observances, although a chaplain also offered services at the camp. Saturday night was the company's "recreation" night, involving a trip by truck to Hagerstown. The weekly trip to Hagerstown, however, brought the Catoctin camp its only real disaster. On the evening of February 1, 1941, near Cavetown, Maryland, a car struck the large truck transporting Company 1374 members back from their Hagerstown evening outing. The accident killed the driver of the car and resulted in nineteen injuries to young corps members. At least two injuries were particularly serious, but all fully recovered. [178]

The Catoctin camp--like most CCC camps--suffered from a chronic problem with desertion. In early 1941, for instance, the company had stood at 169 enrollees, but thirteen members were absent without leave. Indeed, while the numbers of deserters always remained high, after 1940, when young men more easily could find work elsewhere, AWOL cases grew. [179] No doubt the discipline, hard work, and loneliness of the corps also played a role. It was frequently less educated, out-of-state enrollees who defected, or "went over the hill," as it was known in the CCC vernacular. One Company 1374 veteran recalled that it was frequently boys from Philadelphia, unaccustomed to isolated life in the country, who frequently deserted. [180] While the army oversaw the camp, it made little effort to find AWOLers. The CCC simply would send deserters an unsatisfactory discharge. [181]

As early as the fall of 1940, a Happy Days headline described the challenges faced by the corps: "Jobs and National Defense Thin Ranks of CCC." With a peacetime draft instituted in 1940 and the world situation heating up, the corps looked more and more like a relic of a passing time. CCC administrators, meanwhile, became increasingly concerned about the poor quality of corps applicants. In the fall of 1941, the Catoctin camp became a victim of cutbacks. Company 1374 closed shop on November 7, 1941--exactly a month before the Pearl Harbor attack. A few members of the company remained to pack up supplies, most of which were sent to an army depot in Fleetwood, Pennsylvania. [182] Congress ordered the complete liquidation of the CCC on July 2, 1942.

The coming of war was no surprise to the corps members. As one former member explained, "we knew ahead of time what was coming." The military-style training proved a great help as the vast majority of Company 1374 entered the military to fight in World War II. "Once overseas," recalled a Catoctin CCC veteran, "you had to take care of yourself." Familiarity even with something as simple as making a proper bed gave CCC veterans a head-start, made them more effective soldiers, "helped out one hundred percent." [183]

The men who experienced the CCC camp at Catoctin look back on their work with pride and satisfaction. It was "an opening for me," "a great experience." [184] "Many a guy wishes there was still a CCC" commented a Catoctin CCC alumnus. [185]

Conclusion

For more than fifty years the Catoctin mountain region underwent a slow transformation from an agricultural/industrial economy to one more reliant on recreation and tourism. The New Deal in the 1930s dramatically sped up the process and introduced a new player with enormous resources at its disposal--the federal government. Clearly the national economic emergency set the stage for the revolutionary changes. The old ways of self-reliance and independence disintegrated under the pressure of the hard times. In stepped the government to offer its own, desperately-needed, brand of relief and renewal. Its ambitions were huge, and not all residents were pleased with the new force on the mountain. But despite the enormity of the job, the bureaucratic changes, and the resistance of some locals, development of the park moved forwarded. Out of chaos came a beautiful park. In his reflections on the accomplishments of the NPS during the 1930s, Conrad Wirth might provide an epitaph for the Park Service's work at Catoctin: "Looking back, I have often wondered how we ever accomplished it all." [186]

But the federal government was not yet done with the park. And soon another grave emergency would take precedent. World War II transformed the mountain yet again. This time taking it in new and very unexpected directions.