Associate History Professor Finds Mountains of Stories in Catskills

Associate Professor of History David Stradling's love of cities was born, as was Stradling, in Cincinnati. His passion for environmentalism was stoked in Madison, Wis.

Given the chance to meld two of his main interests in his third book, Stradling
jumped into research in yet another area he loves, New York. The result, "Making Mountains: New York City and the Catskills," (University of Washington Press, 2007), explores a much-idealized region of crucial environmental and cultural stature.

Marguerite S. Shaffer, associate professor of history at Miami University, calls the book "a pivotal work in environmental history that makes connections between issues of urbanization, resource development, land use, cultural representation, and environmental consciousness in new and provocative ways."

The research process – and place – has big appeal for Stradling, whose previous books are "Cincinnati: From River City to Highway Metropolis" and "Smokestacks and Progressives: Environmentalists, Engineers and Air Quality in America, 1881-1951."

"In researching my first book, on air pollution, I spent a lot of time in old, industrial cities," he notes. "For this book, I spent a lot of time in the mountains. I wanted to visit all the places I was writing about. One day I was hiking up Overlook Mountain, not far from where Bob Dylan used to live, past the ruins of an old grand hotel, long since burned down, and my companion and I looked up the trail. We saw a black bear. We stared at the bear for a while, which stared back before he ambled into the woods.  I thought, 'Now this is research!'"

Q) Your bio says that growing up in Cincinnati helped develop your love of cities. What were some of the issues driving your interest in the problems of urban and suburban living?
A) I grew up in Kenwood, which has seen dramatic change over my lifetime.  Almost every place I knew as a child is gone, replaced by some new retail space or chain restaurant – even a hotel.  When I was very young, living in Kenwood had some of the advantages of living in the country, the way that proponents of suburbia always claim.  But over time those advantages have disappeared, bit by bit. Open spaces have filled with buildings, the roads are wider, and the traffic is horrible. I now live in Clifton, where I walk to everything, including work. I don't envy those people in Kenwood who have to drive to everywhere and battle traffic while doing so. I realized a long time ago that those old claims that suburban living is "convenient" must be made by people who either don't care how much time they spend in the car or who have never lived a life that wasn't completely dependent upon an automobile. 

Q) At Colgate and Wisconsin, what were some of the issues and who were some of the people who validated your interest in the intersection of urban and environmental history? And isn't this a wide-open, ever-evolving field of research?
A) I didn't know the field of environmental history existed until I arrived in Madison, Wis., and took a wonderful course with Al Bogue, an agricultural historian and a real character. I would have loved any subject Professor Bogue taught, but I had long considered myself an environmentalist and so was especially drawn to that field.  Environmental history seemed like an ideal way to combine my two great interests.  Later, Zane Miller, here at the University of Cincinnati, guided my work on a project concerning early air pollution problems in Cincinnati and other industrial cities, convincing me of the importance of urban economics and politics. Back at Wisconsin, Bill Cronon was enthusiastic about working with a student who wanted to explore urban environments, which not too many people in my field did in the 1990s. Today, urban environmental history is flourishing, propelled in part, I think, by the great number of untold but terribly important stories about how urban places have changed over time, how urban residents have worked to improve their cities' environments.

Q) What piqued your interest in the Catskill Mountains, from a personal vantage point and most important, in terms of research, and how did that lead to the book? Had you traveled extensively in that area?
A) Even though I grew up in Cincinnati, I've spent a lot of time in New York State.  I had grandparents who lived in Kingston, and I attended Colgate University for five years.  I drove back and forth, over the Catskill Mountains, dozens of times, thinking the area was beautiful as far as the natural environment went but the region looked terribly run-down. 
My grandfather grew up in the mountains in a place that had almost completely disappeared since – Highmount. At one point it was a great vacation destination. By the 1980s, it had just a few buildings left. Most everything else had burned down. As I studied environmental history, I thought a great deal about the Catskills, where New York State has an expansive forest preserve and where New York City's major reservoirs are. I assumed there were important stories to tell here. And there are – about the role of tourism in shaping rural landscapes and the role of conservation in shaping rural economies and of city water supplies injecting municipal authority into the countryside.  I found it fascinating.

Q) Has what has transpired in the Catskills over the past 200 years – the good and the bad, the environmental, economic and cultural implications – served as a template for action in other areas of the U.S.? Haven't the myriad incarnations of the Catskills been hotspots for various areas of research – and pop culture – over the years?
A) I'd say the Catskills have played a critical role in environmental history.  They were at the center of the Hudson River School landscape paintings. Thomas Cole lived near the mountains, and all his fellow landscape painters visited him and wandered with him in the mountains. When Americans think about an ideal landscape they still tend to envision the works they painted 150 years ago. That ideal landscape – with rounded, well-wooded mountains, with deep gorges and waterfalls – that's the Catskills. Those paintings helped romanticize the American wilderness and establish the Catskills as the ideal American place, worthy of being preserved forever. And that has happened. The Catskills are as beautiful now as they have been in 200 years – as wooded, as wild – and much protected.

The Catskills have many histories, of course, one of which involves the Borscht Belt, the great Jewish vacation area in Sullivan County. When you say "Catskills" to a New Yorker, this is almost always what they'll think about. Interestingly, romanticism runs through that story as well, since so many people experienced those vacation spots as children in the 1950s and 1960s, and they think so fondly back on them. This tells us much about the role of New York City in the Catskills. At the same time some people will think about the mountains as a wilderness retreat and others will think of them as an over-the-top vacation destination, where people eat huge meals and laugh too loud at ethnic jokes. That tells us something about the diversity of the city and its power to influence places at great distance from itself.

Q) Are you pleased with the book?
A)I'm very pleased with the book. The University of Washington Press does a wonderful job; they make great-looking books. They wanted maps, photos, all kinds of illustrations, just as any historian would want for their book. The book appears in an important environmental history series, so I'm hopeful that it will receive wide attention.