Preserve or protect? After falling in love with driving to the sun, a road is built to nowhere in the 1960s. Mobility for some is restricting for others. Have National Parks become national parking lots?

Glacier Conservancy: https://glacier.org/headwaters Frank Waln music: https://www.instagram.com/frankwaln/ Stella Nall art: https://www.instagram.com/stella.nall/

Daniel: [dreamy synth music fades in] Headwaters is brought to you by the park's nonprofit partner, the Glacier Conservancy. Donations from listeners to the Conservancy are what make Headwaters possible. If you'd like to support the show, go to glacier.org. Beyond that, leaving a review in your podcast app or sending this episode to a friend is a big help. Gaby: It's September 1969. A caravan of 28 trucks is clunking up a remote creek in the backcountry of Glacier. This is a publicity stunt. A black bear sends her cub up a tree for safety when she smells the truck exhaust. She stands guard as the engines echo through the forest. But, given the party-like atmosphere, no one notices the wildlife. They travel next to a creek, but they also drive right in it. The caravan crosses the stream a dozen times as they ascend the valley. Plowing over aspen saplings and bouquets of wildflowers is easy. Crossing fallen spruce trees is harder. The passengers cheer whenever an especially challenging obstacle is overcome. The newspapers say their goal is to publicize the feasibility of completing the Circle 8 Road System. That is, a new road connecting Montana, Alberta and British Columbia in a remote spot called Akamina Pass. [red-breasted nuthatch birdsong fades in] Glacier and Waterton are already connected by a road on the east side. But the caravan wants a connection on the west side, too, creating a grand loop. This figure eight of roads, called the Circle 8 Loop, would open breathtaking scenery to drivers [tree swallow birdsong fades in] unlocking areas like Akamina Pass that would otherwise only be available to hikers. [synth music fades out, voices and footsteps fade in] Gaby [in the field]: ...so how far were we just walking? A mile or so? A little less? Peri [in the field]: [ruby-crowned kinglet birdsong fades in] Yeah, so we just walked up about a mile from the highway. We are now at Akamina Pass, which I feel like a lot of mountain passes, you have to walk a really long way and climb very high to get to and it feels like a big achievement. This is like, "oh! We're here already?" Gaby [in the field]: Yeah. When you said we're at Akamina Pass, I was like, "Uh... what?" [laughs] Speaker 4 [fading out] You might not have known... Gaby: Members of the caravan are reveling in the belief that they are doing something new. Madeline [in the field]: [gasp, western tanager birdsong fades in] Can I read this again? Gaby [in the field]: Yeah. Madeline [in the field]: Ok. "This is the trade route to the Kootenai who are noted among the Blackfoot for their tobacco, which plays an important role within Blackfoot societies. These routes were used by the Blackfoot to get to the tobacco flats.". Gaby: [Swanson's thrush and western tanager birdsong fade in] Like the rest of North America, this landscape has been lived in and loved by more than 600 generations of Indigenous people. The North Fork corridor in particular has been a primary travel route since time immemorial, but no one has ever driven over it. [footsteps fade in]. Gaby [in the field]: It's funny to think about a car being here because they were also kind of like, old timey cars... [laughs, audio quiets] Gaby: [ruby-crowned kinglet birdsong fades in] Along with journalists and adventure seekers, the party includes some local political leaders: the superintendent of Waterton Lakes National Park, and Alberta's director of tourism are part of the group, as are two rangers from Glacier. But despite the downed trees and the dozen creek crossings, all 28 trucks make the 70-mile journey in just one day, complete with morning coffee and Apgar Village and a celebratory dinner in Waterton Townsite. The caravan is such a hit that they pledged to make the trip an annual event. [crunching footsteps and voice fades in] Peri [in the field]: ...but in general, I'd say Akamina Pass is a pretty low, wide, wide-open pass. It seems much less treacherous than Logan Pass. If I was looking for somewhere to put a road. Gaby: [birdsong continues] And maybe one day, with the help of a road, all of this could be open to the public. After all, that's what national parks are all about, right? Peri [in the field]: It's pretty wild to imagine a highway right here. I mean, the terrain in some ways is more inviting to a highway than Logan Pass or lots of other mountain passes. I've driven Teton Pass, Monarch Pass— Gaby [in the field]: Totally. Peri [in the field]: —like many other Rocky Mountain passes, like this would be a great place for a road [starting flute notes of "Wild West" by Frank Waln fade in] if I were to build one. But I mean, we're just standing here listening to the birds and the breeze, and it's hard to imagine. Gaby: [drumbeat begins] You're listening to Headwaters, a show about how Glacier National Park is connected to everything else. [strings start] We're calling the season: "Switchback," looking at moments when the park suddenly changed course. ["Wild West" plays] Gaby: I'm Gaby. Peri: And I'm Peri. This episode is about how national parks came to be defined by a feature [music fades out] that challenges their very mission: roads. This is a history of a loop road that was never built. The Circle 8 Road over Akamina Pass. But it also questions what modes of travel belong in a national park. [string music fades in] The story switchbacks and changes direction over time. Are cars and roads tools for mobility and access? Or agents of violence and destruction? Archival Audio: [light piano music plays] Later in 1916, the National Park Service was created. The Congress established a double mandate: [voice distorts] conserve park resources and also make them available [echo-y] for public enjoyment. It's an enormous challenge. [car audible in background] In the early days, determination to sell the national park idea to the public led to policies that seemed to favor use over preservation. [music fades out] Peri: Cars are an inextricable part of American life. You need one to get to work, to go to the store, or to see your friends and family... whether you like it or not. And we see our national parks by car too: road trips across the country, drive up campsites, scenic loop drives. But when cars come to parks, they bring their problems with them too: air pollution, sound pollution, light pollution, and more. In 2021, Glacier's biggest source of greenhouse gases that warm the climate was from cars and trucks. In other words, driving Going-to-the-Sun Road contributes to melting the same glaciers that people drive here to see. Parks are often romanticized as having been created to preserve nature... but the reality is that big business and economic development were often crucial motivators for designating national parks. [archival audio fades in] Railroads, in particular had a big influence early on. Archival Audio: [grand string music] See America. First: the West! Peri: [music fades out] Glacier National Park was created with support from the Great Northern Railway, who saw this as a destination that could sell train tickets. They also built a lot of the early hotels and chalets in the park. Their trains brought visitors here who then had little choice but to stay in the company-owned hotels, and eat in the company-owned restaurants. From there, it was horses, not cars that took you around the park. [string music and cymbal beat fades in] Archival Audio: Now, in the old days, the only way to really see the park, was from the back of a mighty steed. Well... Peri: [archival audio fades out] But that changed over the first half of the 20th century. The chalet system had a hard time surviving the Great Depression and World War Two and the rise of affordable cars and a growing middle class helped chip away at the railroads business model. After Going-to-the-Sun Road opened in 1934, driving your own car through the park became the iconic Glacier experience. [voice and string music fade in] When you say the words Glacier National Park, many people think of glaciers, but a lot of others think of Going-to-the-Sun Road. Archival Audio: You can drive here on the Going-to-the-Sun Highway. [audio fades out] Peri: The Ford Motor Company even made an elaborate ad in 1939 that was basically a short film [voice and string music fade in] about driving through the park. Archival Audio: The modern automobile... Peri: [Ford commercial volume decreases] To Ford, the automobile was the future of national park travel. But not everyone was convinced. [Commercial volume increases] Archival Audio: ...for an unforgettable vacation. [commercial fades out] Peri: Interior Secretary Harold Ickes argued in the early '30s against letting cars speed through parks. [orchestral music fades in] Voice Actor as Harold Ickes: I am not in favor of building any more roads in the national parks. I do not have patience with people whose idea of enjoying nature is dashing along a hard road at 50 or 60 miles an hour. Peri: But this was a losing battle. [cymbal-driven beat and string music fade in] The car was already out of the proverbial garage. Archival Audio: [voice fades in] Accessible by auto over the Going-to-the-Sun Highway... Peri: [archival audio fades out] The National Park Service would reaffirm their commitment to cars in 1956, and this switch reflected a transition happening across the country. And it wasn't happening by accident. [chords fade in]. Music: ["Conserve Park" by Frank Waln plays] Suzanne: [music fades out] My name is Suzanne Nobles, and I'm an interpretive park ranger at Yosemite National Park. And I had a project last year that highlighted Yosemite's Mission 66 Architecture. Peri: Mission 66 was an infrastructure program that built a lot of the visitor centers and campgrounds and roadside bathrooms that you see when you visit a national park. The program started in 1956 to be finished by 1966, which was the 50th anniversary of the creation of the NPS. Hence the name: Mission 66. Suzanne: So Mission 66 was a ten year billion—with a B—dollar project to essentially revitalize the parks in particular, after years of neglected budgets due to World War Two, and all sorts of other things. The parks infrastructure was deteriorating... and at the same time visitation was rapidly rising. Peri: Things reached a crisis point and the director of the NPS, Conrad Wirth, started lobbying Congress to fund his vision for a program that would create agency-wide solutions. It was approved in 1956, the same year as the Federal Aid Highway Act, which funded and created the country's interstate highway system. It was a decade that would forever change the way Americans navigated their lives and their cities, as well as how they saw national parks. Instead of from the back of a horse, or out the window of a train car, they looked through the windshields of their cars. What was a slow shift in the first half of the 20th century, was made official and intentional with Mission 66. Suzanne: And a family road trip vacation, like we still romanticize that in a lot of ways. We still... you know, the idea of scenic drives through... through parks is still a big thing. And some of those predated Mission 66, right? But we doubled down on those ideas during Mission 66. Peri: You might expect that scientists and conservationists were involved in the early planning stages of such a big project... but, they weren't. Instead, it was the auto industry that helped plan the future of national parks. Suzanne: Prior to Mission 66, Conrad Wirth had already had some partnerships with the automotive industry. And in the initial kind of roll out of Mission 66, there was actually this big dinner essentially celebrating the kickoff of Mission 66 that was co-sponsored with the American Automobile Association, which is, we now know as Triple A. And then as time went on, there were other fossil fuel companies and automotive companies that ran brochures, advertisements, all sorts of things... so they were kind of in cahoots with NPS through Mission 66. Peri: You can see this change in how people visited parks in the local paper. Daniel: Five years ago, most of Glacier's campers were in tents, but now the majority are in off the ground trailers or pickup campers. Hungry Horse News, 1965. Peri: In the 1950s and 1960s, the National Park System was rebuilt and restored, but it was also reimagined. Suzanne: A lot of the projects and the funding in Mission 66 literally went to roads and car infrastructure, so it enabled a larger volume of visitation by car. The design of visitor services was also very car-centric. Get out of your car and you just get everything you need done in that one place, right? Suburbia and shopping centers were becoming quite popular, and so park planners were like, “hey, like, let's incorporate this idea into parks.” So it was very like, how can we make this convenient to people who are arriving by car. Peri: Changing a national park visit from something you could do by train or boat if you wanted, to something you basically had to do by car... was obviously something that benefited the auto and fossil fuel industries. In retrospect, Mission 66 clearly increased the carbon footprint of national parks, although climate change was not yet a well-known concern. And the public never had input on these projects. This was before laws that require public consultation. Suzanne: One of the big criticisms and friction points was that environmentalists were not given any input in the beginning planning stages of Mission 66, and that proved to ruffled some feathers [laughs]. Peri: And there were some major projects undertaken as part of Mission 66. It brought two new visitor centers to Glacier, along with lots of bathrooms, campgrounds, and employee housing. It also funded a new road to nowhere, the Camas Road. There were two reasons to build this new road. One was to add one more piece of the proposed Circle 8 Road that would connect West Glacier to the North Fork Valley, which would then connect to Akamina Pass someday. If the whole loop was finished, then it wouldn't be a road to nowhere after all. By the 1960s, the idea been around for decades, and had pretty widespread support. In 1956, Glacier's superintendent described the road as vital, because he expected Going-to-the-Sun Road traffic to double in the next ten years. The second reason for the Camas Road was to stop the possibility of the Glacier View Dam being built and flooding part of the park. The thinking was: build the road and make the valley a beloved destination. [staccato piano chords fade in] Then, people would be upset if it was flooded by a dam. In peak Mission 66 thinking, a road was a tool for conservation. The road, the cars, the tourists... all belonged here. A massive hydroelectric dam did not. Suzanne: One of the big criticisms of Mission 66 was that it basically did nothing for research and for science in the parks and really neglected that. [music fades out] The Park Service only employed two biologists in the wh— entire Park Service, which is [laughing] really low. Peri: Environmental activists raged against these new developments, calling parks "national parking lots." [piano music fades in] They felt like speeding cars and massive trucks didn't belong in a national park. Just a few years later, in 1970, Joni Mitchell wrote the lyrics "they paved paradise and put up a parking lot." [music fades out] Suzanne: Fundamentally, the main critique boiled down to that it was a, quote, development program and not a conservation program. So environmental groups in particular felt like... natural spaces were essentially just being trounced with all this development. [piano music plays] But Mission 66 was pretty narrow-minded, and that era was pretty narrow-minded on who deserve access to parks and the sort of middle-class, suburban, white nuclear family was sort of the idealized visitor and everything was designed to cater to them really, and sometimes to the exclusion of of other groups. [piano fades out, archival audio fades in] Archival Audio: [musically layered and echoey voices) A novel plan: Mission 66. And also, make it available for public enjoyment. It's an enormous challenge. Resources. It's an enormous challenge. Challenge. Gaby: [dreamy synth music fades in] It's summer 1966 and the National Park Service is turning 50 years old. Mission 66 is complete, and there's a long line at the entrance station. [swallow birdsong fades in]The cars lined up pay $1 per day to enter the park or $4 for a 30 day pass. The birds flying above, they get in for free. There are cliff swallows, small blue and white birds that have just returned from wintering in South America. Each summer they migrate here to nest and lay eggs for countless generations, they've built their nests on cliffs, molding balls of mud into domes that hang like little apartment complexes. This year, they built their homes on the tall vertical walls of the brand-new St. Mary Visitor Center. This dramatic Mission 66 building—with ample parking—will greet visitors on the eastern edge of Glacier [birdsong and music fade out] once it opens in August. From their perches near the roof, the swallows might have noticed crowds gathering for the ribbon cutting ceremony. They could have watched the park's four woman naturalists working as usherettes, seating attendees. Swooping over the podium, they may have seen Montana Senator Lee Metcalf and Park Service Director George Hartzog nervously checking their notes before giving speeches. They must have heard the Flathead High School Band. I wonder if they like the sound of trumpets. The ribbon is cut and the visitor center is open. As the swallows leave their nests each day to hunt for moths and flies, they see a stream of people enter and leave, waving postcards and souvenirs from the gift shop before they drive away in their cars. [synth music fades in] But before they migrate south in the fall, they hear the complaining: "pooping swallows don't belong on a brand-new building" some say. "People come here to see animals and birds." A ranger replies. Within a few years, the rangers will decide that pooping swallows are just too much. [swallow song fades in] They really don't belong. A string of thin wire is hung around the eave of the building, then electrified. Any bird that tries to nest on the St. Mary Visitor Center will be shocked. [music and swallow song fade out] Peri: In the 1990s Going-to-the-Sun Road was in desperate need of repairs. Decades of avalanches shifting hillsides and endless freeze-thaw cycles had done a lot of damage. Some sections were at risk of catastrophic failure. Mary Ann: My name is Mary Ann Donovan and I worked as a biological science technician for nine years. Peri: The project to restore the road ended up costing hundreds of millions of dollars, and it took decades. Some of the most difficult work was in the years after 2011, when crews rebuilt the alpine sections of the road. So during those years, the park hired Mary Ann Donovan to patrol the road and study how the construction work was affecting wildlife. Our producer Daniel and I talked with Mary Ann about her work. Mary Ann: My first job was with compliance for the Going-to-the-Sun Road construction— Daniel [to Mary Ann]: —they were rebuilding— Mary Ann: —rebuilding the road, yes. Daniel [to Mary Ann]: —over like ten years, right? Mary Ann: Yes. Daniel [to Mary Ann]: So it was a huge project. Mary Ann: It was a huge project. And, you know, I came in [gentle piano music fades in] as wildlife tech and it did not take long to understand that my species of concern was human. I... I tried to give a lot of compassion to humans. Peri: Mary Ann made sure the construction crews didn't accidentally leave their lunch out where a bear might find it. And when bighorn sheep backed up traffic, [laughing] she helped herd them off the road. When lines of cars had to wait for construction delays, she helped those visitors appreciate the view. [music fades out] Mary Ann: The lines of cars were s— long, they were incredibly long and idling cars... are noisy, especially if there's 200 of 'em. And the smell... was awful. Peri: Mary Ann would drive Going-to-the-Sun Road back and forth all summer long, and if there weren't too many cars going too fast, she would get out and walk on the side of the road. Daniel [to Mary Ann]: While you were doing patrols, you're also keeping a tally of roadkill, and I suppose removing the animals killed off the road. Mary Ann: If it's safe. Daniel [to Mary Ann]: Okay. Mary Ann: But making a note if I can't... Daniel [to Mary Ann]: Mm. Mary Ann: You know. Daniel [to Mary Ann]: So what did a typical day... or what did that look like on a— Mary Ann: It depends on where it is and where it was. If it was a straightaway, there'd be more animals. I would put on my ever-handy orange vest and get out there and just... look, and walk. And that's how I found so many birds and voles kind of thing. And it just was amazing to me because I— when I did them in the car, I'd be going 25... and looking around and I'd miss 'em. I always contended that our speed limit was too high and you talk to [laughing] anyone else, it's too low, but it's too high. Daniel [to Mary Ann]: Were you finding like, dead animals every day? Mary Ann: Oh yes. Yeah, I was reading... because I was getting ready for this. [laughing] My notes. I kept journals— Daniel [to Mary Ann]: Oh yeah, yeah. Mary Ann: —there were more roadkill than I remembered. Daniel [to Mary Ann]: Really... Mary Ann: —and different. Yeah, Yeah. Marmots... one time a hawk. Birds are hard to spot. Deer... though. Deer were were hit frequently. Bear... not too frequently, but bear—black bear—would be hit around the Rising Sun. That was a problem for a long time. Peri: Which begs the question can anything be done to reduce road kill? Mary Ann: That's the problem that has to be relieved is, you know, do we have shuttles, do we slow it down? And it's not going to be solved by going all to electric vehicles. Daniel [to Mary Ann]: Mhm. Mary Ann: You will solve some problems, but you won't solve the fact that we are so married to our vehicles as a way of getting around. I used to use the shuttle system when I was working sometimes, but it just took too long [laughing]. Peri: Mary Ann is kind, quick to smile, and passionate about conservation. In her retirement, she still volunteers on wildlife projects with the park, and as she read through her long, grim list of notes, we asked her how she handled the experience of dealing with dead animals day in and day out. She said it took thick skin and a sense of humor. Daniel [to Mary Ann]: Do you feel like you have kind of you're okay with a dark sense of humor sometimes? Mary Ann: Oh yes. Daniel [to Mary Ann]: After all this roadkill you had to see and everything? Mary Ann: Yes, yes, yes. I am quite at home with dark humor. I did come across a tarred-over amphibian [laughs]. Daniel [to Mary Ann]: Oh wow. Like I had gotten run over and then it had gotten paved over. Mary Ann: —and then gotten tar— paved over [laughing]. Daniel [to Mary Ann]: Wow. Mary Ann: Yeah. Yeah. And then the smaller ones will attract the bigger ones... to come when they can at night or whenever. It's just... starts a circle of death. Peri: For Mary Ann, and for visitors, animal and car collisions could be pretty traumatic. Daniel [to Mary Ann]: Well, so what's it like when you show up then? Mary Ann: [gentle piano music fades in] That's terrible... for the visitor. For me. Daniel [to Mary Ann]: These are animals you see that are hidden either dead or dying. Mary Ann: Yes. Yes. So that's a big impact. My day was ruined with the Avalanche one. It was just... it was like... it was ruined. You just feel like this shouldn't have happened. I heard it. I was doing a Harlequin survey, and so I was down at the river and I heard it. So I went up. And it was alive. And it was a doe. And she was alive. Peri: Mary Ann arrived on scene to that injured doe and an elderly couple. Mary Ann: It was... my body. Just adrenaline. Just. Oh my gosh. That's. And it was just hard. It was hard. Every time an animal dies, that's human caused. And it wasn't their fault. I think they might have gone... been going a little too fast, but they weren't going 50 or anything like that. And... that was hard. Just the hearing of it. And and they were very upset, and I was very upset [laughing]. And we were all very upset. And we had to call [deep breath] Chuck... to come and dispatch it. And I just know... he's a sensitive person. So it's like, "come on out, Chuck [laughing, hand clap]. I heard this terrible thing and I want you to come out." So that's what was hard... I… it's... I don't like seeing animals hit. [piano music fades out, dreamy synth music fades in] Gaby: It's 1934. President Franklin D. Roosevelt's train is arriving in Glacier National Park. Once the train comes to a stop, he unlatches his wheelchair so he can move around. The secret service, muttering code words into radios, oversees the president's heavy ramps and wheelchairs. They use codenames for these devices because their presence might give away the president's location. The agents call FDR's ramps, “Dayton Articles” and his wheelchairs were probably disguised as “Fifty-Fours.” A crowd has gathered because they know the president is visiting the park today. Roosevelt's valet grabs the president's cane and helps him prepare to greet the audience. His entourage, including his wife, Eleanor, Secretary of the Interior Harold Ickes and Montana Senator Burton K. Wheeler, are already mingling with the crowd outside. Once everything is in place, the president stands, and with a little help, steps outside to greet the crowd. [music fades out] Balanced in one spot, he waves and says a few pleasantries. Then, it's only a short walk directly to the car waiting for him. He continues conversations with local leaders, like Glacier's superintendent, while seated in the car. The rest of the day goes on like this: the forest loving president tours the park from the back of a convertible. He rolls up Going-to-the-Sun Road into the alpine. He breathes in the smell of sub-alpine firs and whitebark pine. He visits a CCC camp and has lunch in one corner of the park, and then gives a speech and has dinner in another corner. Wherever he goes, a cloud of dust and exhaust follow. He seemed to enjoy the trip— in every picture of the drive, [music fades back in] he wore a wide grin. And in a speech he would go on to give that day, he said: "There is nothing so American as our national parks... It is, in brief, that the country belongs to the people; that what it is and what it is in the process of making is for the enrichment of the lives of all of us." But a few years earlier, before the road was completed, this visit would have required a multi-day outing on horseback— a trip unrealistic with both FDR's schedule and his disability. Peri: For all the challenges that cars pose—the exhaust, the noise, the carbon emissions, the roadkill—one of their benefits is the access they provide, for presidents and the public alike. Woman #1: Access writ large is really fascinating, and I think it's something that the Park Service is often thinking about because we're trying to break barriers in public space and on public lands. And so in that regard, accessibility can be as much. Is there a financial barrier that keeps you from getting to the park? [music fades out] Do you feel safe? Do you feel you belong there? Those can also be barriers. So, what are the barriers to access writ large are questions that I'm interested in more broadly. Peri: Perri Meldon has spent most of the past decade studying accessibility and disability in national parks. Perri: I am one of two national coordinators of the National Park Service's Mellon Humanities Postdoctoral Fellowship Program. That is a program that aims to support commemoration of the 250th anniversary of the project that is the United States. Peri: Perri doesn't work for the NPS, but she's been working closely with the agency and our partner organizations since 2017. She was initially hired to work on the "Telling All American Stories" website, writing articles about place-based disability history. Perri: Connecting national historic landmarks, listings on the National Register of Historic Places and national park units to stories of disabled peoples in place over time, or those who have been perceived to have disabilities. And that really launched a path for me that I continue to be awed by and grateful for. Since then, though, I've always lived with spinal fusion and scoliosis, I... this had never been limiting for me and my ability to navigate the world. But since about 2020, I've been living with chronic pain. Daniel [to Perri]: Do you feel like that's changed things for you, like feeling a more personal connection to it? Or just reaffirmed what you were already doing? Perri: It certainly reaffirmed. It also makes me much more personally aware of conversations around visible and invisible disabilities. That lived experience does make a difference. Not necessary, but it again, it underscores it. Peri: According to the CDC, more than 1 in 4 American adults have some kind of disability. Some are cognitive. Others are physical. Daniel [to Perri]: I was thinking we should go through some definitions, maybe just starting with, like, defining disability. What's the most useful way to define disability too? Or what are the pros and cons of defining it as an individual or medical issue versus defining it as a social or collective issue? Perri: Well, I think the first thing one can always do is ask people first what language they use for themselves. Don't make assumptions. Daniel [to Perri]: I think it was powerful for me to learn or to start thinking about disability as a non-static thing. Like it's not like... you know, it's something that can come and go in anyone's life. Perri: Disability and disablement can occur at different points in life. It can also be perceived in different ways as disablement or not. Disability is so interesting because I think it's often perceived as this neutral... or nonpartisan.... or medical experience, and yet it can be highly politicized, it's extremely culturally influenced, and for some it is a medical diagnosis, and for others a medical diagnosis can't capture it. For others, it is culturally or socially informed by the barriers to care, to access to finances, to a strong social safety net. So it really does vary. It is not a fixed term. Peri: Perri pointed out that the experience of living with disability is very personal and it depends a lot on context. It's something that can develop at any point in your life and will be affected by your access to medical care and social support. [distorted staccato piano chords fade in] People with visible disabilities can face stigma and mistreatment, but other disabilities are invisible. Woman #2: So 1921 is when FDR contracts polio. What we think is polio. At the time, it was called infantile paralysis because the thinking [music fades out] was it mostly affected children. Peri: This is Dr. Shelby Landmark. She's currently a postdoctoral fellow who's researching FDR's disability and helping the National Park Service tell that story. Dr. Landmark: Work stress, mental stress, as well as physical stress can suppress your immune system. So he was generally healthy at 39 years old, but he starts to feel ill and he just goes to bed early that night. And the apocryphal story is that he never came down the stairs again. That kind of dramatic story. He got ill that night and then he lost a lot of physical function from the neck down. So he had to have everything done for him. And his wife, Eleanor did a lot of that. So she did a lot of his like brushing his teeth and shaving and helping him get dressed and feeding him and all of these things. He even had a catheter. Peri: Roosevelt did recover function in his upper body and some movement in his lower body, but he navigated the rest of his life with limited mobility, usually walking with a cane or with some other kind of support. Daniel [to Dr. Landmark]: Can you expand on what the general public perception of disability was at this time? The 1920s, the 1930s, maybe even into the 1940s? Dr. Landmark: Certainly at the time it was stigmatized. And we still have that stigma today, like we culturally still have that. However, we also had the two world wars that left a lot of people physically disabled. So nowadays we have—thanks to the disability rights movement and thanks to disabled self-advocates—we have a disability acceptance culture where it's okay to be disabled, you don't have to constantly be trying to regain the ability to walk or make yourself seem able-bodied. We're moving towards a culture of acceptance. At this time, that didn't exist. Peri: In the 1930s, there weren't a lot of accommodations for people with disabilities. Many people have looked back and thought that FDR was trying to hide his disability, because there aren't many photographs of him in a wheelchair. But Dr. Landmark pointed out a more practical reason: Dr. Landmark: I think that people don't consider the fact that that infrastructure to allow for wheelchair use in public didn't really exist. So it made sense for him to have to walk into buildings. It made sense for him not to use a wheelchair in public. He did use them at home. Daniel [to Dr. Landmark]: So even if someone wanted to use a wheelchair all the time in the 1930s or '40s, there weren't curb cuts, there weren't ramps. So it just it actually wasn't a practical tool. And that even if you depended on a wheelchair all the time, you were going to have to figure out a different way to get around in that era. Dr. Landmark: That's right. Yeah. But he also used his car a lot and would do unusual things with his car, like give speeches from his car and do wartime inspections from his car. And there was more infrastructure for that. So I think that's why he relied on the car a lot, which had hand controls so he could use it with his hands instead of his feet. Peri: There are tons of famous photos of FDR. If you conjure an image of him, he might be at his desk signing something or maybe sitting next to Winston Churchill. But you've also definitely seen photos of him sitting in a car, wearing a fedora, probably, and smiling and waving. Daniel [to Dr. Landmark]: Let's talk more about the cars then, because the wheelchair infrastructure doesn't exist, but car infrastructure is starting to exist in a big way in this era, even in a wilderness national park like Glacier, there's a road going right through the middle of it. And so he's able to visit a national park like Glacier in 1934 and tour right through the heart of the park in a convertible car. This is something that he did a lot right, is use a car to improve his accessibility around the world. Dr. Landmark: The cars he drove, like the Ford Phaeton, was built to handle off-roading, you know, gentle off-roading. And he famously would drive through the woods and try to escape the secret service and, you know, be kind of funny like that. So he had a car that was not fancy or really special. It was a working man's car—to an extent—that he had custom hand controls built into. Daniel [to Dr. Landmark]: What about from then on and today, do you think the cars are seen today as an important piece of accessibility infrastructure? Dr. Landmark: I do. And maybe most people don't think about it, when you first think about like mobility devices... I mean, think about how many accessible spaces you see in a parking lot. I think if we can share this story of FDR using cars as mobility devices and inspiring others to do that, maybe we can contribute to more of the public valuing a car as a useful mobility device and a useful mode of transportation for a lot of disabled people. I mean, they're still hand controlled cars. You know, I know plenty of people who are physically disabled and have hand-controlled cars. Peri: While cars can be helpful mobility devices, they also have a disproportionate impact on pedestrians that use wheelchairs. A 2015 study found that wheelchair users were 36% more likely to be killed by cars than pedestrians who are walking on foot. So cars sit at a difficult intersection of both access and exclusion. Today, there's a suite of laws that mandate access for people with disabilities. Some from the late '60s and '70s and the Americans with Disabilities Act in 1990. But these were hard won. Advocates spent decades lobbying for these laws. In 1990, dozens of activists with disabilities climbed out of their wheelchairs and crawled up the steps of the Capitol building. It would be called the Capitol Crawl. [staccato piano chords fade in] The changes they achieved allow all people to push for greater accessibility to public spaces, including Glacier National Park. Back to our conversation with Perri Meldon. Daniel [to Perri]: Do you have similar thoughts on how you define accessibility? I think in the Park Service it often is seen through a fairly narrow, kind of regulatory lens, whereas there is another view of it, like you said, that is about considering all barriers to access. Dr. Landmark: I agree. I think one of the most exciting parts of thinking about accessibility beyond the law is universal design. It's a concept that comes out of the 1980s from a disabled architect, an architect with polio, named Ronald Mace. And he, along with many other disability advocates and architects, developed a whole framework for a set of guidelines that if you make something accessible for people with disabilities, you're also making things accessible for a much broader population. Peri: Today, universal design is everywhere, even if you don't notice it. In national parks. Universal design is the reason for captions on park films and the three-dimensional relief maps that you often see in visitor centers. Those binoculars mounted on a pole that you see at some scenic pullouts? They're almost always installed at two different heights, one at a standing height and one at a seated height, which also happens to be great for kids. Daniel [to Perri]: Do you know how much? Mission 66 did include thoughts of accessibility? Or did we just sort of miss the boat on that? Perri: As far as I know, I think the Park Service missed the boat. Peri: Mission 66 came before early accessibility laws. And a lot of them, like the Architectural Barriers Act of 1968, weren't strongly enforced. Perri pointed out that the key to getting facilities improved was often visitors themselves. Perri: Parks were often able to avoid updating their facilities until someone complained. Complaints were a really important form of activism from the general public. They could point to the law and say, These are my rights. I'm legally entitled to access to these spaces. Daniel [to Perri]: Kind of what you're pointing out is that it wasn't a narrow miss. In many ways, it was actually missed by decades. Well, what about Mission 66 and roads? Mission 66— it was very car-centric in its approach to infrastructure. And while they might not have considered adequately accessible design in when they're making the visitor center, I'm curious if you feel like it's a a move toward a more accessible national park to focus on roads and visitor centers in general? Perri: The truth is that it does make it less accessible. When you leave a park to be just trails, we need spaces that are wilderness and backcountry and we need those places protected. But I don't know how many times I've driven Skyline Drive or the Blue Ridge Parkway with older family members who can't physically get onto the trail. We wouldn't have been able to enjoy the park in the way we did if it weren't for these roads and then the facilities that come with them. Daniel [to Perri]: Cars are such a dilemma when thinking about this because like we've been saying, cars create so much opportunity for access. They allow you to go to Logan Pass and see a wild alpine environment that maybe you can't hike to. But on the other hand, cars are dangerous and they cause climate change and they're not affordable and they're exclusive and etcetera, etcetera. Perri: We should all have access. And we also need to minimize our carbon impact, which does not mean that it's an individual choice and rather has to be a really organized community-wide or federal choice. Daniel [to Perri]: I'm saying, there's this dilemma between cars improving accessibility and cars having negative impact. And you're saying, let's imagine a third option [gentle piano chords fade in]. Perri: Yes. Why do we have to think it's one or the other? I don't think it's that much to ask. I think that it is also central to Ronald Mace's ideas of universal design, that if it's going to serve one, it's also going to serve many more. We should all have that right. It needs some concerted effort and some really critical thinkers. But I'd like to think that we're capable of doing that. Daniel [to Perri]: In many ways. Ultimately, accessibility is actually about allowing someone or allowing anyone to feel that sense of belonging in a national park. Perri: That's a really good definition. Accessibility is... it's about feeling like one belongs. [music fades out, birdsong fades in] Peri [in the field]: We are way up on Akamina Ridge. We've hiked all along the whole ridge today, and we're looking down into the valley. Madeline [in the field]: And we can just barely see the trail that we took on our way up here. It looks like a tiny little piece of string that's just draped along the valley floor. Peri [in the field]: And if we look all in the other direction, we can see the road we drove here on and then parked at the bottom of Akamina Pass. Madeline [in the field]: Wow. I actually didn't see that. That's really cool. Gaby: It's 1967. Mission 66 has built more than 100 new visitor centers across the country, including the two in Glacier that opened last summer. But in the fall of '67, Glacier superintendent is celebrating the opening of the park's Mission 66 Road: the Camas Road. He says that this is just the start. At $2.5 million, the 11-mile road is the most expensive Mission 66 project in the park. The superintendent says that the Camas Road is just the first section of the grand loop that will eventually take drivers over Akamina Pass into Waterton Lakes National Park. This new road will alleviate traffic all around Glacier. In fact, they might turn Going-to-the-Sun Road into a one-way. But he's wrong. The rest of the road will never be built. It takes seven years to finish the Camas Road, and during that time, the world changes. The Wilderness Act passes in 1964. In 1970, the National Environmental Policy Act, or NEPA, is signed the Endangered Species Act in 1973. The environmental movement crystallizes into something formidable. You can't just build a road through a national park anymore. After the caravan of 28 trucks triumphantly drove over trees and through creeks to reach Akamina Pass, conservation groups start to ask questions like "Why are these people allowed to drive off-road through national parks in the first place?" And "do we really need yet another road through sensitive habitat for grizzlies and wolves?" Another voice of opposition comes from British Columbia. The road needs to cross a corner of British Columbia's land, but the provincial government sees little to gain from the project. In 1977, the Loop Road is officially dropped from Waterston's management plan. The Akamina Loop is not going to happen. George Bristol, a historian of Glacier, sums it up like this: "without the Canadian connection. The Camas Road is simply a road. Not quite to nowhere, but nothing like what was once envisioned." Daniel: Park visitation will probably double again in less than 20 years. But obviously the Sun Road won't be made into a superhighway. A thought to be considered for the year 2000, if not before, is that Glacier won't be able to accommodate private automobiles across the Sun Road anymore. Hungry Horse News 1976. Madeline [in the field]: Would you take the road if there was one here, do you think? Peri [in the field]: There's definitely a tension. Like on the one hand, I'm like, wow, we can just zip down this really flat, open looking valley and down the North Fork stop at Polebridge, get home in a couple hours. That will be really convenient. I feel like I would come to Canada so much more. But on the other hand, like, I can't imagine there being a road and car noise floating up to me from the valley like trucks and motorcycles going by. It would change this so much. Madeline [in the field]: Do you feel any of that tension driving Going-to-the-Sun Road? Like, not quite the same thing, but— Peri [in the field]: Oh, totally. In some ways, it's like this giant scar across the landscape. You know, like this. We gouged out this pathway through the mountains and then built a whole bunch of arches and masonry to support it, and then we plow it with, like, massive machines and fossil fuels every spring so that people can access it. [laughing] It's crazy! But on the other hand, how many people get to go to Logan Pass and drive to the alpine that would never be able to see the alpine in Glacier, which is so magical. And I love to visit there. [first notes of "Runaway" by Frank Waln play] Madeline [in the field]: Mhm. Peri [in the field]: Like, my parents would never hike to the alpine from Glacier's valleys. That's like not accessible to them. Madeline [in the field]: Not many people are getting to see what we're seeing right now. Peri [in the field]: Which of course is an experience that I value. Like, it's great to be up here with a few dozen other people. It's quiet. It's peaceful. It would be a different experience with hundreds of people. Madeline [in the field]: Like is it bad? Is it good? There's not one answer. Yeah. Madeline [in the field]: Do you think Glacier has a good balance? Peri [in the field]: Well, I don't know. I'm glad I didn't have to make that decision. ["Runaway" plays] Gaby: This show is only possible because of donations to the Glacier National Park Conservancy. Learn more at glacier.org. If you liked this episode, share it with a friend who might appreciate it. Also, we'd love it if you gave us a rating and review in your podcast app. Frank Waln makes our music and Stella Nall created our art. Check them out on Instagram. Headwaters is made by me, Gaby Eseverri, Daniel Lombardi, Peri Sasnett, Madeline Vinh, and Michael Faist, with support from Lacy Kowalski, Melissa Sladek, Elizabeth Maki, and Sophia Britto. Thanks to our good Friends in Glacier's Cultural Resources program, including Jeanne, Anya, Keiko, Sierra, Brent, and Kyle. We couldn't make the show without them. Special thanks this episode to Lisa Bate, Dr. Ethan Carr, Mary Ann Donovan, Edwin Knox, Dr. Shelby Landmark, Dr. David Louter, Dr. Perri Meldon, Suzanne Nobles, and Lois Walker. Thanks for listening. Peri: Here's another snippet for you about cars and national parks from our conversation with Dr. David Louter, author of Windshield Wilderness. Dr. David Louter: It's not a clean relationship, it's complicated. And I think that's what makes parks such special places and spaces, is that they offer kind of an opportunity for a national dialogue about what are national parks? How should we interact with them? What is our relationship with nature? How do we appreciate these places and and not destroy them? And I think that's what cars bring up, right? It's not that cars are like, you know, the best thing ever for national parks, but it's like we have a complicated relationship with nature. We just as humans, enjoy but destroy at the same time it seems.