William Chapman White (1903–1955)

This was about what I expected, a book written by one of the summer people who never ventured far from his "summer home" with the requisite chapters on how the wilderness must be saved for all of the other tourists.

The problem in writing about the Adirondacks, the largest “park” in the contiguous U.S., is that it is much like the proverbial elephant, examined by seven blind men who each had their own perception and description of what the creature was like. The Adirondack Park ranges from remote wilderness to garish tourist towns, from families who have lived on that land for centuries, some struggling to feed themselves through farming and hunting, to billionaires lounging around their opulent lakeside "cottages" and everything in between. There are liberals, conservatives, rednecks and crazies of all varieties that inhabit those mountains.

What qualifies me to talk about it? I was born and raised there, before it was chic, the daughter of a father whose family’s recorded land deeds go back to 1821 and a mother who was one of the summer people. I was raised among the viewpoints, prejudices and comments from both sides of the family about the “others”.

If there has been anything consistent about the Adirondack Park since its creation in 1892, it has been the controversy and knowledge that it is a political and economic war zone. Lumber companies, mining companies and land developers coexist with large and small businesses that often depend on tourism. Caught in the middle are the people who love the land and want a balance of life’s amenities/necessities with preserving the peaceful way of life. The regulators have alternately promoted local businesses and damaged them beyond repair, kept out industrial, anti-environmental companies and then turned around, giving them special permission to do their worst.

William Chapman White does have many correct and astute observations. He rightly calls it when he notes that the state seizes land when individuals can’t pay the taxes, selling it to developers or lumber companies who make their fortunes and then stop paying taxes when they are finished. Occasionally the state buys up land to preserve it, paying more than it is worth with taxpayer dollars and then selling it at a loss to their cronies. It is an almost comical cycle except for the permanent residents who have to put up with the constant boom and bust cycles along with land prices spiking and dropping with incredible regularity and dizzying speed. Attempts have even been made to seize the land outright from individual property owners when the spirit moved the great powers down at the state capital.

While I admire White’s attempt to tackle this subject, he is only centered around the small area he knew where he had his summer camp, so perhaps he should have changed the title. He did have some interesting and enlightening facts, a few things not quite right, but he was certainly an excellent writer with great credentials. What I enjoyed most about the book were the sections on the months of the year there and why each one is beloved by the true residents.The old saying goes that if your cat has kittens in the oven, you wouldn’t call them biscuits. This clannishness (and I use this term knowing that genealogy and DNA bear me out) is what visitors and summer people resent the most, but I have seen people born there who hated the place and others who moved in and a short time later became true natives, looking forward to using their skis and snowshoes just as much as their canoes and fishing equipment. These people love every season (mud season and black fly season are the possible exceptions) and look forward to each one while they are getting to know their neighbors. Though you can’t pick your own birthplace, you can choose where you want to live or your final resting place and many choose the mountains they love. White seems to have had that love and it does come through in his beautiful writing. It's well worth reading, especially on a rainy weekend in the Adirondacks or it might be kept on a bookshelf in the cottage or camp for visitors to peruse.… (más)