Change characterized Manassas National Battlefield Park in the late 1960s and early 1970s. Changes to the surrounding countryside necessitated revising past management decisions. Suburban development with its ancillary shopping centers mushroomed around the town of Manassas as the new interstate reached completion. With more and more families moving into the area and building on the once open land, the green spaces at the battlefield park became a precious recreational outlet. As a longtime resident of the area sympathetic to the needs of his neighbors and friends, Superintendent Francis Wilshin allowed a range of activities at the park, from kite flying to fox hunting. These seemingly harmless recreational uses eventually overwhelmed historic interests at the park.

Other changes followed. Park administration, which had once been the eminent domain of the superintendent, was now accountable to outside political forces, including local and national interests. Individuals, with Wilshin as one painful example, who failed to make this adjustment often found their jobs on the line. At the same time, the Park Service began expecting superintendents at historical parks to devote their energies to park management, leaving the historical work to the professional staff. In the past, superintendents had contributed considerably to a park's interpretive efforts, often because they were the only staff members with the proper expertise. Increased funding under Mission 66 and the accompanying growth in the number of Park Service positions allowed for a greater division of responsibilities. These changes prepared the battlefield park for the phenomenal growth in park visitation and the loss of insularity.

Change at the Manassas battlefield park happened concurrently with larger changes in the nation. The United States in the 1960s and 1970s underwent heart-wrenching transformations in its social institutions and the development of its physical space. African Americans sparked the Civil Rights movement by opposing segregationist practices in the South. These efforts inspired other minority groups to question their underclass status and demand change. Concerns over the degradation of the natural environment launched a series of protective actions by the federal government and an avalanche of private watchdog organizations. Expanding cities ringed by suburban developments ate up land and released dangerous levels of pollution. Although the Manassas National Battlefield Park heard only distant echoes of the Civil Rights struggle, the park sat squarely in the middle of conflicts over land use. Changes in visitation numbers, which had begun in the 1950s, put heavy demands on the park's outdated interpretive displays, leading to significant improvements at the end of Wilshin's superintendency.

Enhancing the Museum Exhibits

The exhibits at Manassas remained essentially unchanged for the twenty years following the installation of the first permanent displays in 1948. Mission 66 planning included updating these exhibits, and the Park Service's History Exhibits Planning Team designed a new museum plan in 1960. Although Superintendent Wilshin approved the plan, he did not guide it to completion. At the time of his dismissal in 1969, the museum plan required revision to incorporate additional artifacts acquired during the 1960s, such as a twenty-six-star American battle flag carried during the battle of Second Manassas and a fife found on the battlefield. [1]

Wilshin's concentration on the 1961 reenactment left him little time to devote to the installation of new displays based on the 1960 museum plan, although these exhibits would have complemented the reenactment. The plan provided added contextual details about the two battles and set the Manassas confrontations in the larger framework of the Civil War. Significantly, the proposed museum plan would have augmented discussion of the Second Battle of Manassas by highlighting that two battles had been fought here. Existing displays placed so much emphasis on First Manassas that visitors sometimes missed the fact that a second battle occurred a year later. Several displays for the second battle were planned, including a diorama of the fighting at Deep Cut and a panel explaining the Brawner Farm battle of 28 August when Jackson's Stonewall Brigade clashed with what would be called the Iron Brigade, composed of troops from Wisconsin and Indiana. This confrontation was the first meeting of these two famous commands. [2]

After the reenactment had been staged, Wilshin had the opportunity to install new exhibits and other interpretive aids, but he failed to do so. Funding did not pose an obstacle. The Park Service continued to dedicate Mission 66 funds for this work on an annual basis. Each year, as it became apparent that the money would not be used, the Park Service transferred the funds to interpretative programs at other parks. One factor in the decision to use the Manassas money elsewhere, Wilshin claimed, was that newly established Civil War areas were taking precedence over parks like Manassas with existing museum displays. But, in reality, Manassas funding was simply transferred to other units because it was not being used at Manassas. In fiscal year 1965, unspent Manassas funds went to electrical work at Castillo de San Marcos National Monument, a seventeenth-century Spanish fort in St. Augustine, Florida. [3]

During the mid-1960s, interest in revising the Manassas museum panels increased, although implementation continued to be stalled. The exhibits planning team met with Wilshin and the park historians to discuss ideas about the displays, but the Park Service did not execute these plans. Service memoranda referred to the anticipated museum revisions at Manassas, and Wilshin incorporated planned interpretive changes in the park's 1965 master plan, but the plans did not proceed. Visitors disappointed with exhibits at the park prodded the Park Service to update them. One tourist, a William Hauser, wrote Secretary of the Interior Stewart Udall that the Manassas displays were one of the "shoddiest collections of mementos" he had ever seen. In reply, the Park Service noted that new exhibits were planned for installation in 1964. In fact, it would take another four years. [4]

Wilshin's administrative style accounted for the repeated delays. He alienated Park Service employees both on his staff and at the regional office, ironically because of his devotion to history, especially the telling of the First Battle of Manassas. As former chief historian Edwin C. Bearss remembered later, Wilshin held the title of superintendent but he practiced the role of park historian. He left the everyday management of the park to his administrative assistants, first Joe Vaughn and later Mildred Gay. These individuals capably handled the daily affairs, but long-term planning, for such projects as Mission 66 interpretive programs, suffered. [5]

A long line of park historians passed through Manassas National Battlefield Park because of Wilshin's insistence that he do their job. Bearss described the situation as a swinging door: historians would come to the park full of expectations and would leave in disgust. One such historian, L. Van Loan Naisawald, had far better credentials than Wilshin as a military historian and had practical combat experience as an artillerist during World War II. But, as Naisawald recalled, his ideas for new narrative markers and for lectures failed to materialize. Wilshin would not let go of the historical work, nor could he follow through on projects Naisawald initiated. Naisawald's job as historian eventually degenerated into the role of "ticket-taker, a Howdy Doody role," a problem succeeding historians also encountered. [6]

These battles between park historians and Wilshin required intervention by the southeast regional office, which had direction over the Manassas battlefield park. The regional historian frequently had to travel from Richmond to Manassas and salve the festering wounds resulting from these turf wars. This spent energy left the regional office less inclined to devote added time to interpretive planning at Manassas. Wilshin compounded the problem by not pressing the regional office to follow through on its museum proposal. A stalemate resulted, with the park's interpretive program the principal victim. [7]

Wilshin's filling the role of both superintendent and historian need not have prevented change in park interpretation. Joseph Mills Hanson and James Myers had accomplished significant milestones in park interpretation while serving in both capacities. They ushered in the first permanent exhibits in the museum and augmented the self-guided tours around the park. While Hanson and Myers had fewer visitors during their tenures, they also had much smaller staffs. They had to do the historical research, the initial interpretive planning, and the park management alone. Wilshin, in contrast, had two park historians in addition to an administrative aide. It was not lack of support but Wilshin's single-minded focus on the First Battle of Manassas along with his indecisiveness and poor relations with the park historians and regional office that slowed the progress of change at the park. [8]

With the end of the Civil War Centennial in 1965 and Mission 66 a year later, the National Park Service could devote more concentrated time to individual parks and accomplished what Wilshin had been unable to do. In 1968 the Park Service's museum planning team designed a new exhibit plan for the visitor center. Before Wilshin had the chance to review the final draft of wall labels, and possibly stall the project with further concerns, workers began revamping the museum space. Work progressed steadily, and visitors were enjoying the new exhibits by the end of the year. [9]

In a significant departure from the 1960 plan, the 1968 visitor center plan relied on an improved audiovisual program to explain the principal tactical aspects of First and Second Manassas. This program, which was not completed until 1971, included a taped narrative with appropriate sound effects, projections of strategic maps and pictorial graphics, and a diorama terrain model. The 1960 plan had relied on the exhibits to describe many of the key events during the battles. [10]

With the audiovisual program interpreting individual battles, the 1968 exhibits focused on more general concerns. Filling the first-floor museum space and the downstairs public area, the 1968 displays looked at such themes as the confusing array of uniforms soldiers wore and the weapons they used. This thematic approach avoided concentration on just First or Second Manassas and made good use of the park's extensive and growing artifact collection. One display showcased the different objects that soldiers used while camped at Manassas, including knapsacks, canteens, field glasses, and knives. Illustrations portraying the lay of the land helped explain why Manassas Junction became the battleground for two conflicts. Although the 1960 plan had explained similar ideas, it had relied more heavily on text and less on artifacts to educate visitors. On the other hand, the 1960 plan did have the advantage of being more interpretive in its approach, telling a more finished story about the battles than the 1968 plan, which relied heavily on visitors making their own conclusions about the array of artifacts. [11]

As the National Park Service installed the new museum exhibits in 1968, Wilshin readied the Stone House for its role in the park's interpretation. For more than ten years, Wilshin had intended to turn the Stone House from a park residence to a field hospital exhibit. Although the Stone House did not open until after Wilshin left, he oversaw the research and initial planning for the project. "Like a lonely sentinel brooding over a nation's wounds," as Wilshin described the structure, the Stone House represented a significant historic resource at the park due to its hasty conversion from a tavern to a hospital during both Manassas battles. The proposed Stone House display was viewed by Wilshin as a "giant step forward" in battle interpretation. [12]

Burial Ground for the Nation's Veterans

A new threat to the integrity of the battlefield park appeared just as the new exhibits graced the visitor center and Wilshin prepared the Stone House for its opening. In January 1969 Congressman William L. Scott (R-Va.) introduced H.R. 1357, which proposed establishing an annex to the Arlington National Cemetery within the boundaries of the Manassas National Battlefield Park. Scott, who sat on the House Committee on Veterans' Affairs, reasoned that the undeveloped sections of the battlefield park offered an attractive location for the national cemetery. With Arlington close to full, a new national cemetery near Washington was needed, and Scott thought a location in his home district would address this need. [13]

Debate on the appropriateness of housing a national cemetery at the battlefield park erupted soon after Scott introduced his bill. In 1968 Scott had surveyed his constituents about the idea and had gained overwhelming support for having a portion of the Manassas park designated a national cemetery. H.R. 1357 did not, however, specify how much of the park would be used, and some park neighbors concluded that the historic scene at the park would be jeopardized by the intrusion of the cemetery. Annie Snyder, whom Wilshin had converted to the battlefield cause during the interstate highway controversy, joined forces with Gilbert LeKander, another local resident who also worked as a legislative aide for Congressman Frank Bow (R-Mo.), to oppose Scott's proposal. The battle between Scott and the park neighbors who supported preservation stretched into the 1970s and across three park superintendencies. [14]

Although many park neighbors opposed any proposal to use the battlefield park for a national cemetery, National Park Service Director George Hartzog gave conditional support for the idea. In a 10 February 1969 meeting with Scott and Wilshin, Hartzog suggested that the cemetery use lands within the authorized park boundaries but currently privately owned. Hartzog believed that approximately 500 acres along the southern border of Bull Run and lying northeast of the park had only "moderate historical significance" and could be designated a national cemetery without conflicting with the park's interpretive plans. Hartzog convinced Scott to consider this land as opposed to the "most valuable historic portion" of Manassas battlefield, and Scott submitted revised bill H.R. 8818 to Congress on 12 March. This bill proposed acquiring the lands suggested by Hartzog, which lay adjacent to the northeast corner of the park along Bull Run, for the national cemetery. [15]

The Department of the Interior supported Hartzog's proposal. Under Secretary Russell Train told the chairman of the House Committee on Veterans Affairs that Interior had no objection to establishing the cemetery on the proposed 500 acres because the lands had only moderate historical significance. Train also believed that the cemetery would be more compatible with the park's mission than some "future adverse private development." Interior did want to take part in selecting the specific tracts for the cemetery, and the department also wanted the legislation to make clear that land chosen for the cemetery would no longer be considered within the authorized boundaries of the battlefield park. In this way, Train could object to any proposals that intended to place the cemetery on federally owned park land. [16]

Both Hartzog and Train based their decisions on the idea that the adjacent 500 acres of land had only moderate historical significance. Ed Bearss, at the time a Park Service historian in the Washington office, questioned this interpretation. He noted that the 500 acres had "at least as high a degree of historical significance" for Second Manassas as areas already included in the battlefield park. [17]

When Representative Scott first submitted H.R. 1357, Wilshin considered the proposal "absolutely adverse to the whole concept of park development." He worried that using Manassas for a purpose other than the one for which it had been created would set a dangerous precedent. The integrity of other national park sites would be threatened. In response to these fears, Wilshin acted as he had during the interstate highway crisis. His talks to local community groups and Civil War enthusiasts, informing them of the situation and enlisting their support, helped generate letters to Capitol Hill and the secretary of the interior. [18]

In addition to giving talks to local organizations, Wilshin attended several strategy meetings with the newly formed Friends of the Park, later called the Save the Battlefield Committee. Annie Snyder and fellow opponents to the national cemetery proposal had organized this group. As Wilshin freely admitted to the southeast regional director at the time, he provided the Friends of the Park with specific information on the extent to which the cemetery proposal would adversely effect interpretation and development at the park. Wilshin's information became the basis for numerous letters of protest to Congress. [19]

Wilshin's actions soon drew the attention of Congressman Scott. Scott accused Wilshin of voicing opposition to the cemetery bill when Wilshin attended the first public meeting of the Friends of the Park and a Prince William Board of County Supervisors' meeting in March 1969. The Department of the Interior defended Wilshin's actions at both of these meetings, indicating that Wilshin had acted as an official observer, answering questions about park development and interpretation plans. But Scott was unconvinced. As Bearss later remembered, when word arrived that Wilshin had publicly denounced Scott in "rather acerbic language" at a Manassas supermarket, Hartzog decided to transfer Wilshin. Wilshin left the Manassas National Battlefield Park in April 1969 and took a Park Service historian position in Washington. [20]

Wilshin believed that he was acting in an appropriate manner when he helped the Friends of the Park develop their strategies to oppose the cemetery. In reply to Scott's first concerns about his actions, Wilshin stated that "any contacts" he had had in talks before various organizations "reflected solely the official policy" (his emphasis) of the Department of the Interior and the National Park Service. He believed that both agencies opposed establishing the national cemetery at the battlefield park, and so his efforts to help the opposition seemed correct official actions to him. In reality, the official policy articulated by Park Service and Interior favored establishing the cemetery on less historically significant lands designated for inclusion in the battlefield park but not yet acquired. Wilshin's opposition to the cemetery contradicted this official determination. [21]

Hartzog's decision to remove Wilshin from the park superintendency followed federal agency protocol. Once an agency had established a policy on a particular issue, subordinates had the option of either accepting that decision or resigning. Since Wilshin did not resign, he had a responsibility as an agent of the National Park Service to accept Interior's decision on the national cemetery proposal. [22]

Public debate over the national cemetery proposal continued after Wilshin's removal. On 23 September 1969, when one of the subcommittees of the House Committee on Veterans' Affairs held a hearing on H.R. 8818, almost 150 people submitted letters or gave statements. Opinions varied on the merits and problems associated with the bill. Veterans groups favored establishing the cemetery adjacent to the Manassas National Battlefield Park because it would give appropriate recognition to the sacrifices made by all veterans in serving their country. The Prince William Board of County Supervisors opposed the idea of taking the privately owned 500 acres off the tax rolls and placing them under federal ownership, whether for a cemetery or for the battlefield park. Park neighbors who favored the cemetery argued that the loss in taxes on the land would be more than made up by the increased amount of sales tax generated by cemetery visitors who chose to purchase goods or services in the county. [23]

Although joined in opposition to H.R. 8818 with the Board of County Supervisors, the Save the Battlefield Committee, led by Snyder, considered the historic significance of the battlefield lands and the opportunity for recreational activities more important than any perceived loss in taxes. Snyder argued that the scores of gravestone markers, chapels, military barracks, and supporting maintenance buildings would "destroy the mood and visual aspects" of the park. The somber cemetery would discourage park visitors from hiking and picnicking in the park's inviting green space. Snyder used soil maps to suggest that the land, believed to be underlain by a thick layer of rock, would require dynamiting grave spots and special sanitation measures since the soil did not drain well. Snyder also expressed concerns about the expected future expansion of the cemetery, which would spread to the battlefield park itself. [24]

In light of these concerns, the Save the Battlefield Committee urged Congress to support H.R. 8921, which was introduced by Congressman Bow in March. LeKander, Bow's aide and also a vocal member of the Save the Battlefield Committee, had contributed to this bill's creation because he wanted to provide an alternative location for the cemetery. Both LeKander and Snyder recognized the need for an annex to the almost filled Arlington National Cemetery and did not oppose a location somewhere in Prince William County, so long as it did not destroy historically significant land. Bow's bill proposed placing the cemetery within the boundaries of the United States Marine base at Quantico, Virginia, the Fort Belvoir Military Reservation in Virginia, Andrews Air Force Base, or Fort George G. Meade, the latter two located in Maryland. [25]

Congress failed to pass any of the 1969 cemetery bills, and the issue remained unresolved. In Snyder's opinion, public opposition was a significant factor in defeating Scott's proposal. In response to the Save the Battlefield's successful public relations tactics, people from across the country wrote to Congress and registered their views. [26] These tactics echoed the work done in 1957 to fight the interstate, and the same method would serve equally well in subsequent campaigns. Save the Battlefield Committee members wrote letters to the Civil War Round Tables and other people who had previously expressed support for the park. They encouraged the local papers to run stories, hoping the issue would be picked up by the national press. With the story out, Snyder later said, "people will come to you." And when people came to help fight the cemetery proposal, Snyder and the Save the Battlefield Committee got them involved stuffing envelopes, circulating petitions, and making phone calls. As these people got involved, they became committed and served as allies in future controversies. [27]

Wilshin was one of these committed individuals until his death in 1990. According to Snyder, he designed and colored maps for her to use in her appearances before Congress. Wilshin obtained the names of committee members and researched which regiments from their states fought in what place. He then tutored Snyder on this information, ensuring that each committee member would take an interest in Snyder's presentation. [28]

"Seventeen Gates, Three Logs, and a Load of Gravel"

The change in leadership following Wilshin's fourteen years as superintendent involved more than new faces. The National Park Service now emphasized specialized training for its managers and a clearer demarcation between positions than had been the case earlier. In the historical parks, historians were supposed to focus their attention on doing the research and interpreting the site for visitors. Park superintendents, though they may have history backgrounds, were responsible for daily affairs and planning for long-term improvements. Each position had a function that was flexible but focused on specific tasks and objectives. [29]

Russell W. Berry Jr., who replaced Wilshin, benefited from this new Park Service approach. Berry had joined the NPS in 1966 just as he completed his undergraduate degree in history, specializing in the Civil War, at Old Dominion University in Virginia. Instead of sending new employees directly to a park site, as had been the case with Wilshin, the Service arranged for a three-month orientation program at the Grand Canyon. Here Berry learned about the history and traditions of the Park Service while also gaining practical skills in interpretation and protection. He applied this training to his historian position at the Jefferson National Expansion Memorial before heading to the East Coast and Manassas. [30]

When Berry arrived at Manassas in summer 1969, he encountered many reminders of Wilshin's reign. First, Wilshin himself continued to live in the park superintendent's house for the next several months. Berry commuted from Annandale, Virginia. Second, Mildred Gay, who had served as Wilshin's administrative officer and then acting superintendent until Berry came, expected to continue in her administrative role, in practice if not in title. Gay proposed to take the "burden of administration" so that Berry could be the "dreamer and the keeper of the history and the vision." Berry did not accept Gay's offer. He understood his job as being the park's manager. He wanted the historians to recommend changes to the park's interpretive program without getting involved in the details himself. [31]

Another carryover from Wilshin's superintendency involved visitors' use of the park. When Berry arrived, the "whole park was saturated with recreational use." On the battlefield, it was "solid cars and picnic blankets and frisbees and dogs running." Local hunt clubs had permission from Wilshin to chase foxes throughout the park. These different activities encompassed all areas of the park, including Chinn Ridge and Henry Hill. The Robinson House area served as a softball park in the daytime, while other spots be came the "evening social haven" for local area high school students. Without gates to control the level of access to certain areas, the entire park served as a recreational outlet for the local community. [32]

The need for recreational space in Prince William County had risen sharply toward the end of Wilshin's administration of the park. Completion of Interstate 66 to the south of the park in 1966 made the Manassas area a viable bedroom community for Washington. Housing spurts that had begun in the immediate post-World War II period accelerated in the late 1960s, bringing more and more families to the area. In the same period, the Prince William Board of County Supervisors had decided not to join the Northern Virginia Regional Park Authority, which maintained a series of public parks in the area. The Park Authority charged residents of non-participating counties, including Prince William County, for using any of its regional parks. The Bull Run Regional Park, a large recreational area located nearby in Fairfax County, was one park under the authority's jurisdiction. [33]

The Manassas National Battlefield Park provided a free alternative. Wilshin's close connections with local community organizations and park neighbors made it difficult to say no, which exacerbated the growing problem. When Gary Farley of the county's Parks and Recreation Department contacted the Park Service about the recreational opportunities at the Manassas battlefield, Wilshin did not express opposition. Farley wanted assurances that the park would play a "much more active role" in the county's recreational program. Specifically, Farley pointed to the battlefield's many acres of "unused lands." With some funding assistance from the county, Farley thought these areas could be improved with more adequate sanitary facilities and the like. Wilshin assured Farley that the Park Service had development plans for the park that would address some of the county's concerns. [34]

In Berry's mind, "total recreational use" as it developed under Wilshin's administration threatened the park's mission to preserve and protect the Manassas battlefields. Restoring historic use to the park became one of his most significant contributions. He had the chief maintenance worker at the park design gates to blend with the historic scene and had them placed on each of the dirt roads leading into the park. These seventeen gates allowed Berry to control access and reduce unauthorized recreational use. He established horse trails that removed equestrian usage from the most historic parts of the battlefields. Berry moved the picnic area from Chinn Ridge to its current location, a generous piece of land along Route 234 north of Lee Highway. He placed signs on Chinn Ridge stating: "In order to preserve the historic area, recreation is restricted to the picnic area." The zoning of recreational use inside the park represented an essential change in park management, one that the National Park Service in time adopted for other historic park sites. [35]

With historic use reasserted, Berry encouraged park historian George Reaves to develop more interpretive programs. Immediately apparent to Berry and Reaves, both newcomers to the park, was the need to give equal voice to the Second Battle of Manassas. Reaves suggested adding a guided driving tour, and Berry agreed. They walked the park and chose areas based on historical significance, distance, and safety concerns. Then, with "every spare dime that [he] could scrape together," Berry asked the maintenance foreman to put "three logs and a load of gravel" at each spot to establish a widened shoulder for pulling out. The driving tour emerged one stop at a time. At the visitor center on Henry Hill, Berry and Reaves inaugurated guided tours of First Manassas, which three seasonal employees conducted. The Stone House also finally opened with its living history display of the field hospital. [36]

Berry revamped some parts of the visitor center and walking tour by drawing on the mutual needs of the park and other Park Service divisions. He turned to the Harpers Ferry Design Center, which needed a place in the vicinity to try out new technologies in interpretation, to improve the battle map that Wilshin had started at the end of his tenure. The design center also introduced an audio narrative for the Henry Hill walking tour, using the voices of a Northerner and a Southerner talking about the battles they had fought at Manassas as if they were at the reunion fifty years later. With the designs in hand, Berry went to the Job Corps Center for student workers to construct the interpretive displays. The battlefield park provided temporary housing for the Job Corps workers, making the effort mutually beneficial. [37]

Berry oversaw one other lasting change to the visitor center exhibits. He had adopted the practice of keeping the museum open after hours when he was working in the building so that latecomers had the opportunity to tour the museum. One night while Berry was sitting at the information desk reviewing paperwork, a gentleman stopped by and struck up a conversation. The visitor noted that his great grandfather had been killed at Manassas and that he always wondered what the spot on the battlefield looked like. Berry asked for the name and took the visitor to check the official records. Based on the description Berry found, he knew within twenty or thirty feet where the site was. He took the gentleman out to the battlefield, to a place in the midst of the woods near the old railroad embankment, where he determined the man's great grandfather had been mortally wounded. The man was thrilled.

On returning to the museum, the visitor mentioned that he had a few things relating to his great grandfather that he wanted to give to someplace where people cared. On two previous trips to the park, he had not found anyone to answer his query about where his relative had died. Berry had shown that the park was indeed responsive to its visitors, and the gentleman offered to donate his items. The great grandfather's sword, the surgical kit used by his brother to try to save him, and the railroad pass used to bring the body back to Ohio were incorporated in a special exhibit in the park's museum. [38]

Berry continues to share the story of the surgical kit with his seasonal employees at other parks. In his mind, the story encapsulates the Park Service mission of serving people and preserving parks for future generations. And sometimes the park gets something in return from smiling at visitors, saying hello, and offering to lend a hand. This story also serves as a reminder that despite the many changes occurring at national park sites, one constant remained: service to the public. [39]