The first curious visitors to Fort Stanwix gingerly stepped on plywood sheets strung across the muddy parade ground, making their way between each of the restored buildings and the patches of snow and ice retreating under the mid-March sun.  Newly appointed superintendent Lee Hanson greeted them in colonial fashion, dressed as Col. Gansevoort in an authentically reproduced uniform.  Other soldiers milled around and answered questions about life on a frontier post.  Women in hand-sewn colonial dresses dished out the decidedly twentieth-century offering of cookies and punch.  Visitors could view a twenty-minute film describing the 1777 siege or learn about the quarters where soldiers slept and ate.  A museum displayed examples of the artifacts unearthed during the archeological dig.[1]  Yet, simply by walking around the fort and forgetting that modern times lay just outside the drawbridge, guests could literally touch and feel and hear the past surround them.  This was the feeling Hanson envisioned.  He wanted people “to really get a total appreciation of what the eighteenth-century soldiers or Revolutionary War soldiers went through in living in this fort.”[2]  Fort Stanwix had risen and come alive.

Living history

            Those smartly dressed soldiers and the women wearing long skirts all volunteered in the living-history program called the Fort Stanwix Garrison.  Hanson had imagined the Garrison and given it the name as a way for people to identify with the group and commit to its goals of researching and portraying eighteenth-century life for park visitors.  They had to work hard.  At weekly meetings, the 125 or so men, women, and even children learned the basic history of the fort and its times from Hanson.  Men practiced holding muskets and drilling.  Women experimented with cooking one-pot meals over an open fire.  Everyone had to sew his or her own clothing.  Each volunteer chose a person to portray and built a “story” around that person to use at the fort.  Those stories relied on diaries and other historical accounts, carefully researched and rehearsed by each Garrison member.  Hanson wanted the fort to live with reenactors who stayed in character, answering questions as if they were still soldiers and farmer's wives, Native Americans and French traders.  Such an approach, called first-person living history, tested the commitment and knowledge of each volunteer.  But, when successful, willing park guests were transported to another time and place.[3]

            People in Rome had a fascination for pageantry and reenactments.  The third day of August held special meaning due to it marking the start of the 1777 siege, and the city over time labeled that day Fort Stanwix Day.  As described in the first chapter, the Sesquicentennial celebration on 3 August 1927 included building a scaled-down version of the fort and staging a huge retelling of the siege with some 700 costumed participants.  Fort Stanwix Day continued to generate interest until the mid-1950s.  Then, pageantry re-appeared.  A truck parade in 1954 featured floats depicting different historical scenes from the siege.  In 1956, historically minded Romans built a temporary replica of one bastion of the fort and presented a narration and fireworks display.  A thunderstorm in 1957 put a thrilling ending to a play with music for the special day, dampening efforts for several subsequent years.  But, enthusiasm slowly re-emerged by1965, and the Rome Free Academy hosted a musical drama written, directed, and produced by Sarah Kent.  The next year, Kent's husband George oversaw the construction of an amphitheatre (using no public funds) on a quiet bend of the Mohawk River.  Sarah produced an expanded drama, complete with 128 costumes made in Rome by dedicated volunteers with donated sewing machines and material.  The resulting pageant, held in the new Kent Amphitheatre, capped what became a weeklong celebration called Fort Stanwix Days.[4]

            One of those volunteers helping to sew costumes proved a lasting presence in the Fort Stanwix Garrison.  Marguerite Syfert (she would later marry fellow reenactor Stephen Hines and change her name to Syfert-Hines) moved to Rome in 1965 and quickly engrossed herself in the history of the city.  She had worked in a range of museums and historical societies, gaining an incredible store of knowledge about the clothing and lifestyles of people living in eighteenth-century America.  In Rome, she eventually served as consultant for the Library of Fashion, using the store of costumes begun by Sarah Kent's vision to educate people about the past.  Syfert-Hines also had training in interior and theatrical design, applying these skills to her job as buyer and decorator for Nelson's Department Store in Rome.  Just as Nelson's was being torn down for the city's urban renewal efforts to build a new shopping mall, Syfert-Hines found new ways to contribute her passion for history in the Fort Stanwix reconstruction project.[5]

            Fritz Updike had planted the seed of doing living history at Fort Stanwix.  In 1969, he wrote in his editorial space of the Rome Daily Sentinel that the National Park Service planned to turn the donated Dwight D. Eisenhower Farm near Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, into a working example of how such a farm had been kept.  Wouldn't such an approach work at Fort Stanwix?  There would be “activity within the fort for the attraction and interest of visitors,”[6] sure to build the coveted tourist trade.  Updike continued to cultivate the living-history seed, having articles express the positive opinions of various Park Service and Interior Department representatives to the idea.  Updike even suggested the vehicle for such a program, through the Volunteers in the Park program, initiated by newly appointed Secretary of the Interior Walter J. Hickel. 

By spring 1971, the Park Service acknowledged that it hoped to garrison the fort with persons depicting life in the colonial fort.  Such a proposal came in conjunction with discussions of what to do about a park visitor center.  As related in Chapter Three, the Park Service had spent a couple of years debating whether to use one of the historic Rome houses, particularly the Rome Club, for the park visitor contact station.  Once deciding not to move and rehabilitate the Rome Club, the Service opted to keep all interpretive, visitor service, and administrative space inside the fort's buildings.  The Service wanted to reduce any modern intrusions on the site itself, to retain the flavor of the eighteenth-century fort set in a field.  With this decision came the next logical conclusion that living history would enliven and expand the educational opportunities at the fort.  Costumed interpreters, according to NPS New York State Coordinator Jerry Wagers (he would soon become regional director for the North Atlantic Region in Boston), would perform military drills and demonstrate techniques of living and working in the 1770s.[7]  Without living history, Updike wrote, Fort Stanwix would be “a lifeless, sterile exhibit of 17^th [sic] century fortification, with little lasting appeal.”[8]

            Just how to bring living history to Fort Stanwix continued to rouse debate.  Hanson wrote in April 1972 that he wasn't prepared to start a full-fledged living-history program.  His attention still had to focus on supervising the archeological dig and keeping all parties informed about the planning for the reconstruction.  He envisioned putting “a couple of V. I. P. interpreters in period dress for local public relations purposes.”[9]  However, Hanson did consent to having students volunteer as guides for the last season of the dig.  Interested in history and familiarized with the story of Fort Stanwix, these students laid the foundation for the Garrison.  In 1973, students came back under the auspices of the Explorer Scout Troop 513 and its leader Dick Hsu.  Hsu's son David participated.  This time, the young men and women dressed in period clothes that they had hand stitched, under the guidance of Marguerite Syfert-Hines.  The Explorers constructed a fireplace east of the fort excavation site and used the setting to demonstrate cooking and other activities carried out by the men and women of the 1770s fort.  To raise money to buy tools and other implements for their demonstrations, the students melted down pewter and made buttons bearing the “NY”symbol used by the 3^rd New York Regiment originally stationed at Fort Stanwix.[10]

            By 1974, with Hsu leaving for his new assignments, Hanson fully adopted a living-history approach at the fort site.  He dressed in period clothing as soldier Abraham Tompkins and answered questions about life in the 1770s.  Such role playing fit Hanson's personality, who describes himself as a bit of a “ham actor.”[11]  By February 1975, he had placed the first call to arms for the Fort Stanwix Garrison, and Hanson had decided that he would take on the bigger part of playing Gansevoort himself.  Syfert-Hines went to the Smithsonian Institution to photograph and take notes on the original Gansevoort uniform held in that collection.  Hanson went so far to achieve authenticity by growing a ponytail to match the style of the colonial era.  He struck a commanding figure, and the Sentinel couldn't get enough of photographing Hanson á la Gansevoort peering over the rising log walls of the reconstructed fort.[12]

Fig. 15 Lee Hanson, first superintendent of Fort Stanwix, often posed as Colonel Peter Gansevoort.  Courtesy of Lee Hanson.

            Hanson had able help in directing the enthusiasm and interest of the more than 100 volunteers who answered the call for the Garrison.  Syfert-Hines remained indispensable with teaching participants how to sew clothing and demonstrating cooking skills and other 18^th-century domestic arts.  Hanson later described her as a “real whiz,”[13] who knew all the crafts and could communicate the skills to the Garrison women.  Syfert-Hines was so knowledgeable that Hanson wondered if she really thought she lived in the eighteenth century all the time.  John Downing, who served as a staff sergeant at Griffiss AFB, had helped Syfert-Hines since 1974 with guiding the Explorer Scout troop.  In 1975, he and part-time fort maintenance man George Ahles obtained specialized National Park Service training in rifle and cannon firings, making sure that any black powder demonstrations at Fort Stanwix would be safe.  They passed their expertise to the Garrison soldiers and routinely drilled them to ensure safety and authenticity.  Ahles, a Rome native and Marine Corps veteran, had inherited an interest in Civil War and then Revolutionary War history from his family.  He collected antique weapons, and after becoming the fort's maintenance chief, he adopted the role of regimental surgeon for the Garrison.  He collected the knives and other pieces characteristic of a colonial surgeon and explained them to visitors on the weekends.[14]

            For many people who joined the Garrison in its first years, living history became a family affair.  Hanson's wife Joan appeared in colonial garb and stirred an iron kettle over an open fire on many weekends while also keeping track of their growing family of girls, who dressed the part.[15]  Ahles had his wife and two daughters and son around him.  In total, about six complete family units graced the ranks of the Garrison in those early years, and they were among the most active participants, serving in such capacities as president, membership chairperson, and orientation leaders in addition to their tasks as reenactors.  These families embraced the Garrison because, as one mother noted, “At a time when so many families go their separate ways, it gives us something to do and enjoy together.”[16]

            Laura L. Sawyer remembers first-hand how reenacting could transform a family.  She had grown up always visiting historical sites and forts with her father, an amateur historian.  She naturally felt an affinity for historical subjects and, as an adult, began doing reenacting in Civil War garb with her husband, another amateur historian.  With the beginning of the Bicentennial celebrations, the Sawyers switched to Revolutionary War living history and loved learning about their area's local history.  Their son Bill at a young age caught the reenacting fever and encouraged the family to participate in encampments, or weekend reenactments, as often as possible.  When residents of the nearby town of Boonville dressed in colonial-era clothing and marched to Fort Stanwix in 1976 to present the fort with a reproduction of the flag that had first flown during the siege, Bill led the group as the drummer boy.  Bill's love for the period eventually funneled into learning eighteenth-century musical instruments, obtaining expert training in black powder use, and becoming a National Park Service Ranger at Fort Stanwix.  He married fellow reenactor Laura K. Sawyer (who shares her mother-in-law's first name), and they have regularly presented colonial musical performances at the fort.  His mother believes that families gain many benefits from re-enacting together.  “It's a wonderful family thing. . . . The whole family can take part in it.  It doesn't matter if it's a babe still in a nightgown or a little boy or a teenager or whatever.  Any age can take part. . . .”   Kids are free to do things that they might not have the chance to do otherwise, from playing colonial games to helping cut wood for the fire.  If one child falls, any one of the re-enactors is around to help.  Plus, Sawyer developed so many friendships over the years that “when we're together, the different groups, in the fort or anywhere else, we are just one extended family. . . .” [17]  That sense of kinship kept many reenactors active in the Fort Stanwix Garrison and made the fort an enjoyable, educational place to visit.

            On 22 May 1976, Secretary of the Interior Thomas Kleppe formally dedicated Fort Stanwix National Monument and its reconstructed fort.  In his speech, he noted the contributions of the many people in the Rome area who had given of their talents and interests over time to ensure the re-creation of the fort.  Such historic sites as Fort Stanwix and their living history programs “promote healthy patriotism and give us inspiration.”  Kleppe ended by saying, “May this Fort stand as a reminder of the sacrifices made by our Revolutionary soldiers who served here and as a tribute to the 20^th Century Americans who banded together to restore and preserve this vital part of our national heritage.”  Kleppe reminds future park managers that the story of Fort Stanwix is intimately tied to both the Revolutionary War period and the unceasing support of the people of Rome.  Hanson received some criticism afterwards for forgetting the importance of those people.  He invited Mayor Valentine to participate in the ceremony, but he did not ask William Flinchbaugh or any other members of the city government.  Instead, recognizing that this was a military fort, Hanson asked officers at Griffiss AFB to join Valentine on the podium.  Hanson quickly learned his lesson and worked to maintain good relations with the city as superintendent.[18]

Fig. 16 Dignitaries from the Department of the Interior, National Park Service, Rome, and Griffiss AFB welcomed crowds to the official May 1976 opening of the reconstructed fort.  Courtesy of the National Park Service Historic Photograph Collection, Harpers Ferry Center, West Virginia.

Opening

The National Park Service completed a series of photographs capturing the shape and spirit of Fort Stanwix as it first opened to the public in 1976.  Many living-history participants sat for the photographs, re-creating a sense of the historic conditions of the fort.  This section captures some of these images to provide a sense of what the first visitors saw as they crossed the drawbridge, leaving the 1970s and entering the 1770s.

Fig. 17 This aerial view of the fort shows the Northwest Bastion with sentry box and gun platforms.  Inside the parade ground, the Park Service converted the West Barracks into two audio-visual rooms and a visitor contact station while the East Barracks provided space for living-history demonstrations.  A museum in the East Casemate displayed some of the archeological finds of the dig.  The smaller Store House contained public restrooms.  Courtesy of the National Park Service Historic Photograph Collection, Harpers Ferry Center, West Virginia.

Fig. 18 Sentries guard the lowered drawbridge leading over the moat into Fort Stanwix.  Courtesy of the National Park Service Historic Photograph Collection, Harpers Ferry Center, West Virginia.

Fig. 19 Dressed in clothing authentic to the 1770s, this drum and fife corps of the Third New York Regiment plays period music for visitors outside Fort Stanwix.  Courtesy of the National Park Service Historic Photograph Collection, Harpers Ferry Center, West Virginia.

Fig. 20 Standing on one of the gun platforms next to a reproduction cannon, two young living-history participants demonstrate the fife and drum.  Drummers in colonial battles had the important responsibility of drumming out signals to the troops above the loud noises of gunfire.  Courtesy of the National Park Service Historic Photograph Collection, Harpers Ferry Center, West Virginia.

Fig. 21 These reenactors, dressed in the uniforms of the Third New York Regiment, pull a cannon into position.  The National Park Service trained members of the Fort Stanwix Garrison to demonstrate safely and properly rifle and cannon firings.  Courtesy of the National Park Service Historic Photograph Collection, Harpers Ferry Center, West Virginia.

Fig. 22 Dedicated Garrison member Lester Mayo in his Third New York Reginment uniform explains cannon firings to an interested group of school children.  Fort Stanwix would host many different school and scouting groups over the years.  Courtesy of the National Park Service Historic Photograph Collection, Harpers Ferry Center, West Virginia.

Fig. 23 Marguerite Syfert-Hines, portraying Mrs. Joseph Savage, the wife of an artillery officer stationed at the fort, mends a soldier's coat, surrounded by the furnishings typical to an eighteenth-century barracks.  Courtesy of the National Park Service Historic Photograph Collection, Harpers Ferry Center, West Virginia.

Fig. 24 This view of the fort's living quarters and reenactors gives visitors an idea of the artifacts and tasks Revolutionary War soldiers had in a garrisoned fort.  Courtesy of the National Park Service Historic Photograph Collection, Harpers Ferry Center, West Virginia.

Fig. 25 A blanket muffler protects soldier re-enactor Lester Mayo from a bitter wind as he demonstrates some of the hardships Revolutionary War soldiers endured in defending Fort Stanwix.  Courtesy of the National Park Service Historic Photograph Collection, Harpers Ferry Center, West Virginia.

Telling the fort's story

            Considerable planning, coordination, and perseverance by different offices within the National Park Service made the opening and living-history efforts of Fort Stanwix possible.  To understand what Fort Stanwix looked like to visitors when it first opened in 1976, it is helpful to examine the years prior to the nation's Bicentennial and the planning process that the Park Service undertook in preparation for the big event.  As one of 22 official Bicentennial development areas, Fort Stanwix competed for time and attention to make sure the fort was built, the museum exhibits set up, the film produced, and the fort furnishings planned in time for 1976.  Programming for the Bicentennial within the Park Service involved other construction projects, especially building new or enhanced visitor centers in such places as Saratoga National Historical Park in New York or the ill-fated National Visitor Center in Washington, DC.  Colonial National Historical Park in Virginia used Bicentennial funding to conduct significant archeological investigations.  Independence National Historical Park in Philadelphia attracted the largest amount of money to ready the site of the signing of the Declaration of Independence for the expected onslaught of visitors.  The Park Service renovated the area around Independence Hall, designed a visitor center, built a pavilion for the Liberty Bell, and memorialized a suite of buildings once owned by Benjamin Franklin by using imaginative ghost structures.  These steel structures outlined the size and shape of the houses and print shop that had once stood there.  The Park Service had rejected full reconstruction of these buildings due to the lack of complete archeological and historical evidence.  However, the Park Service did reconstruct at Independence NHP the Graff House, where Thomas Jefferson drafted the Declaration of Independence, and the City Tavern, where colonial leaders met and discussed separation from Britain.  Fort Stanwix, at an approximate cost of $6.5 million for research, design, plans, exhibits, project supervision, overhead, and contingencies, came out as the second largest Bicentennial undertaking.  All of these projects had highest priority within the Service, but a vast array of other agency projects, not directly related to the Bicentennial, also competed for attention.  Just in terms of construction projects, in addition to Fort Stanwix, the Park Service had committed itself to reconstructing Fort Vancouver in Washington and Bent's Old Fort in Colorado.[19]

            From the perspective of the Park Service, Fort Stanwix had already advanced far enough along the pipeline that managers did not foresee any significant roadblocks to its scheduled completion.  It had an approved master plan and three seasons of archeological fieldwork under its belt by the time the Service officially began funding Bicentennial projects in July 1973.  In contrast, at Morristown National Historical Park in New Jersey, the agency still had to approve a master plan in 1973 and then begin working with the county to have a road built to bypass the park.  That work got done, but the Service, through its Bicentennial Action Group, kept close watch on it and all the Bicentennial projects.  The Action Group, chaired by Deputy Director Russell Dickenson and composed of Bicentennial coordinators from each involved region, met every six weeks to make sure the different projects progressed steadily.  Any complications received immediate corrective attention.  In some cases, the Park Service dropped projects that could not meet the December 1975 deadline set by Director Ronald Walker (Gary Everhardt would succeed Walker as Director during the course of Bicentennial planning).  Other potential projects did not receive funding due to the inflationary economic times and the need to focus attention on other projects considered more worthy.  Although the Park Service received approximately $100 million over the course of the three years to complete its Bicentennial programming, this funding did not constitute an addition to the agency's normal budget.  Rather, that money came as a substitution for the normal budget, necessitating the deferral of other projects until after the Bicentennial.  Again, Fort Stanwix had the benefit of having much of its planning work completed before July 1973.  Its share of the actual Bicentennial funds went directly to fort reconstruction and interpretive work.  As the example in Rome shows, the total $100 million of NPS Bicentennial funding does not take into account such pre-planning work completed at Fort Stanwix and other sites.[20]

            Complicating the funding situation, severe personnel ceilings previously imposed by President Nixon restricted any new hiring in all federal agencies.  This situation hit the Denver Service Center (DSC) particularly hard.  It had only become in 1972 the technological center for all Park Service research, planning, design, and construction work.  Recent staffing of regional offices from DSC had depleted its ranks, leaving the Park Service with trying to find more bodies without violating federal hiring restrictions.  The Historic Preservation Team, especially with regard to historical architects and restoration specialists, experienced the most critical shortages in the face of all the reconstruction and restoration work to be done for the Bicentennial.  A four-pronged approach helped alleviate the situation:  reassignment of internal personnel, use of “other than permanent” position descriptions, recruitment of specialists from state offices and academia, and contracting with outside consultants.  Because much of the construction work had an interpretive component, such as building visitor centers that would house museums and theater space, the Denver folks had to make sure they coordinated with staff at the interpretive production center for the Park Service at Harpers Ferry Center (HFC).  Similar personnel shortages at HFC further eroded its ability to handle the increased load, causing it to rely many times on contract specialists.[21]  Merrill Mattes, who headed DSC's Historic Preservation Team until his April 1975 retirement and who wrote an administrative history of the NPS Bicentennial program, described the circumstances and how agency officials handled it, writing “The specter of ingloriously 'flubbing it'when handed the greatest crash program in the history of the National Park Service was probably the strongest motivation for those whose sagging shoulders bore the burden of responsibility.”[22]  Fort Stanwix, in Mattes's opinion, shined.  He noted in describing this project that “The combined research of the archeologists [Hanson and Hsu], architect [Carroll], and historian [Luzader] at Fort Stanwix will long stand as a model of interdisciplinary cooperation in historical restoration/reconstruction.”[23]

            Beyond frenzied planning and building, the Park Service remembered that the Bicentennial celebration required educational and entertaining activities for its visitors.  With assistance from Harpers Ferry Center, parks throughout the system developed Bicentennial programming that tied to the themes associated with each unit.  Information kits for the media provided background stories, photographs, and other interesting facts to assist reporters in writing about the parks and the Bicentennial.  NPS regional offices developed an array of events and exhibits to circulate among the various parks under their purview.  The North Atlantic Regional Office created five portable exhibits describing the role of immigrants and ethnic groups in shaping American society.  Traveling musical performances brought eighteenth-century music to ten parks while drama troops inspired audiences with the themes and meaning of the American Revolution.  School programs in New York City described the history of the city's fortifications over the course of the past 200 years while community programs at Saugus Ironworks in Saugus, Massachusetts, discussed the rise of industrialization in the eighteenth century. [24] 

Fort Stanwix fully engaged in the Bicentennial celebrations.  Once formally dedicated in May, the fort hosted various traveling plays, including a touring group with actors playing the parts of Franklin, John Adams, Mark Twain, and Abraham Lincoln in “A Little Look Around.”  This show, developed for the Park Service, examined the accomplishments of the United States in a whimsical way and ended with a surprise.  On the Fourth of July, remains of eight bodies found outside the park boundary during urban renewal excavation were reburied in a public ceremony.  Probably the remains of eighteenth-century soldiers who had served at Fort Stanwix, these bones were re-interred in a Tomb of the Unknown Revolutionary War Soldiers, designed by local area resident Lorimer Rich.  Rich had also designed the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier in Arlington National Cemetery.  Fort Stanwix staff and Garrison members served as pallbearers, honor guard, and gun crew for a military salute.  The Rome Historical Society had purchased the site for the memorial from the Rome Urban Renewal Agency and had organized a public subscription to raise funds for the monument.  Throughout the summer, the fort had Sunday afternoon musical performances by the Third New York Regiment drum and fife corps or by the Bagpipe Band of Fraser's Highlanders.  Tom Two Arrows, a member of the Leni-Lanape tribe, also known as the Delaware Indians, and a specialist within the Park Service on Indian culture, stopped at the fort for a weekend and shared his knowledge of Indian culture and skills with visitors.  On 3 August, the fort also held a special flag raising in honor of the 10 days long celebration in Rome for Fort Stanwix Days.[25] 

What might a typical visit to Fort Stanwix encompass during its opening year?  Visitors would walk across the drawbridge and be greeted by a Garrison member acting as sentry on duty.  That person, under strict orders to maintain an eighteenth-century persona, would give a greeting and possibly mention the weather or ask if the visitors had seen any enemies near the fort.  If confused by such talk and not prepared for the fort's living-history approach, the sentry would point the way to the park visitor contact station in the West Barracks, where uniformed park rangers would answer queries and explain the parks'interpretive approach.  While there, visitors would more than likely watch Siege, the park film reenacting the anxious days of the 1777 siege.  Hanson had carefully worked with the interpretive staff at Harpers Ferry Center to make the film as historically accurate as possible.[26]  Once completed, Hanson expressed his pleasure in the film's ability to capture the mood of the events.  “I got emotionally wrapped up in the drama and was really moved at times. . . . we're going to have people jumping out of their seats and kids cheering.”[27] 

The film did, over time, generate complaints from American Indians.  Some expressed concern over the portrayals of soldiers and their attitudes towards Indians.  The only references to Indians mention scalpings and violence toward whites.  None of the Indians portrayed in the film include the Oneidas who served as scouts and provided useful information to the American patriots.  To address concerns, Hanson had his staff introduce the film by emphasizing the positive role the Oneidas had played and to avoid terms like “savages.”  The park museum also did not address the role of American Indians in the history of the fort due to the lack of Indian-related artifacts uncovered during the archeological dig.  And, Hanson's initial efforts to have local Indians participate in the living-history program failed.  He found Indian politics to be “terribly complex”and “frustrating,”with the end result being that no one would make a commitment to represent Indians in the fort.[28]

Yet, the City of Rome did begin to build some bridges, if only temporary, with the local Indians.  Mayor Valentine approached Chief Ray Elm of the Onondaga Indian Reservation about having a statement about the role of the Oneidas inscribed on the Tomb of the Unknown Revolutionary War Soldier.  Elm accepted this important recognition and began meeting with Joseph Vincent, executive director of the Rome Historical Society, to find ways to further the relationship.  Oneidas discussed selling their handicrafts at the Fort Stanwix Museum, and Chief Elm shared stories about the origins, lifestyles, and hardships of the Oneidas.  He also tried to educate his white audiences about the Fort Stanwix treaties and why the Oneidas believed that New York State owed them hundreds of millions of dollars in restitution for settling lands that had been occupied by their ancestors.  Hanson had noted that he did not favor emphasizing in the park's interpretation the history of the fort's treaties with Indians because of the legal battles erupting over this issue.[29]

Other problems surfaced with the park museum and archeological collection.  The museum's narrow entrance in the East Casemate generated a lot of back ups from people trying to get through to the display cases.  Dust stirred up from all of the movement from the visitors descended through the quarter-inch gaps between the removable and fixed plexiglass panels, accumulating on the fragile artifacts.  Insects also found their way inside, forcing park staff to clean the objects on a monthly basis.  Ineffectively controlled humidity levels from the nearby storage area complicated the situation and corroded some of the iron artifacts on display.  Harpers Ferry Interpretive Specialist Nan Rickey had recommended in the park's Interpretive Prospectus (1975) that the museum and archeological collection area be linked.  The bulk of the collection would be stored in the concrete tunnels connected to the East Casemate.  Rotating artifact displays could be set up in front of the artifact storage shelves and cabinets for visitors to peruse as they toured the museum.  Despite Rickey's specification that proper environmental controls be used to ensure dehumidification and temperature levels for optimal care of the artifacts, corrosion began to appear.  Hanson later admitted that he and his colleagues had not given enough attention to the proper storage of the archeological collection.  “One of the mistakes we made, I think, was the storage area that we set aside for the archeology, for the artifacts.  It just really wasn't adequate. . . . .”[30]  Carroll agreed, saying that “I think the artifact storage could have been made useable if it had been planned that way from the very beginning, but it wasn't.”[31]  Rickey's recommendation for the collection served as an optimal choice from a limited number of options, considering that the park only had the fort buildings available for storing and displaying the archeological artifacts.  Once the Park Service completed the second phase of the fort reconstruction in 1978, Hanson had the entire museum moved to the West Casemate, providing more room for visitors and new display cases to seal out dust.[32]  But, for visitors of 1976, the museum generated admiration and awe for its plush carpeting and “ultra-modern”[33] feel in direct contrast to the austere exterior of the casemate.

Some memorable people from the past probably greeted visitors as they strolled around the fort's parade ground and peeked inside the different quarters.  Lester Mayo and Joe Occhipinti played roles as soldiers while Marcel Rousseau, beginning in 1977, developed the part of a French-Canadian trader and set up a trading post in the fort for visitors to examine.  Rick Martin joined the NPS staff in 1976 and became an expert in black powder usage and training.  He often dressed in a soldier's uniform and participated in various encampments with Garrison members.  Each of these reenactors used their well-researched knowledge about their characters to make the fort come alive for park visitors.  Martin remarked later that he is normally a reserved kind of person, but when he put on the Revolutionary War uniform, he had to break out and initiate visitor contacts.  He also found that he had to translate the myriad information he knew into something visitors could use and understand.  “There are ways to get the answer across to visitors in first person,”Martin commented, “but you must be creative.”[34]

Marguerite Syfert-Hines always attracted attention for her infallible and creative portrayal of the wife of an artillery officer.  Syfert-Hines seemed to forget the twentieth century when she put on the persona and dress of Mrs. Joseph Savage.  Many a visitor took on the challenge of trying to break her from her role, all unsuccessfully.  Chester Seidel wrote after her death in 1992 that “Mrs. Savage stood strong to the challenge”[35] when his brother-in-law made several attempts to draw her out.  Syfert-Hines could stay in character because she knew so much about eighteenth-century life.  She was a “walking encyclopedia,”[36] as Laura Sawyer once described her.  She studied historical fort journals and used their descriptions of daily practices to determine her own activities at the fort.  She could knowledgeably talk about how she sent wool down to Fort Plain for weaving or traded wool and linen to the Indians for maple syrup, Indian corn, or beans and fruit, based on what she could gather from reading historical sources.  She made her own ink as the colonists would have, out of the husks from black walnuts, butternuts, and charcoal, and she spun wool or knit stockings regularly, just as women of the time would have done.  She also did backwards genealogy, checking to see if descendants from people who served at the fort still lived in the area.  This information helped her answer questions when a person sought information about a past relative.  Always eager to share her knowledge, Syfert-Hines even compiled a cookbook of recipes typical of the eighteenth century and a teacher's guide for school groups.[37]  In 1979, Syfert-Hines earned a special achievement award from the park for her contributions to the living-history program.  Hanson wrote, “You are the one interpreter most vividly remembered by visitors and commented upon to me and by mail.”[38]

Interestingly, the first-person living-history program practiced at Fort Stanwix went in direct contradiction to the park's Interpretive Prospectus (IP).  Interpretive specialist Rickey agreed in the IP that living history would provide a beneficial approach for visitors to learn about the fort, but she flatly emphasized that “Costumed interpreters will not assume a first-person posture in talking with visitors.  They will, rather, be costumed interpreters engaged in historic activities, thus being free to discuss all facets of the history of the fort. . . .”[39]  This approach followed the example of Williamsburg, where costumed interpreters discussed life in colonial Virginia while also retaining their twentieth-century identities.  Rickey wanted Fort Stanwix to ensure that its visitors went home with an understanding of the central story of the 1777 siege and its repercussions in helping to determine the successful outcome of the Battle of Saratoga and eventually, American Independence.  However, she also allowed for special programming to extend the story of the fort beyond 1777 to earlier and later historic events associated with the fort.  Talks about the archeological dig and its collection of artifacts also deserved consideration according to Rickey.  In the end, Rickey recommended using first person in the park film to communicate the events at the fort.  Willett and his published autobiography might serve as a way to frame the film.[40]

Documentation has not been found to explain why Hanson favored using first-person interpretation.  He later said that he wanted visitors to appreciate what Revolutionary War soldiers had experienced while living in the fort.[41]  He insisted that the costumed sentry welcome visitors in strictly eighteenth-century style.  If asked how far to Albany, the sentry should answer in colonial time and say four days.  Hanson did not want to break the spell the Garrison provided.  Certainly, he had support for this idea from people like Syfert-Hines and other enthusiastic members of the Garrison.  And, he reported every step of the formation, training, and practice of the Garrison to his regional director Jerry Wagers without receiving any known reprimands for not following the IP.  Larry Lowenthal, the park's first historian, supported the first-person approach and served as a resource to the Garrison.  Lowenthal opted to stay in his Park Service uniform, providing a counterweight to the living-history program and to ensure that visitors understood that the National Park Service managed the site.[42]

Louis Torres's Historic Furnishing Study from 1974 guided restoration of the fort and its depiction of soldier life.  Torres had the task of transforming the barren spaces inside each casemate and barracks into a credible re-creation of the original fort.  He relied heavily upon John Luzader's historical account and Orville Carroll's architectural design work, and both of these men reviewed and made recommendations to ensure accuracy.  Torres discussed everything from the range of weapons that soldiers had for defense to what the water barrels may have looked like.  He provided suggestions on how the Officer's Quarters differed from that of the enlisted men and explained arrangements for storing provisions.  Each soldier, according to the historical record, had a mattress made of straw and two blankets for warmth.  Reproduction items for cooking, sewing, chopping wood, and conducting other business as it would have been during 1777 enlivened rooms and provided props for the living-history program.[43]  These furnishings, rich in historical detail, also reminded visitors of the austere life soldiers endured.  Hanson noted that park visitors got the message and that “the troops got several offers of food, clothing and companionship to improve their lot.”[44]

Rome in 1976

            The transformation of Fort Stanwix into a living and breathing Revolutionary War fort occurred simultaneously with the modernization of the city of Rome.  Mayor Valentine presided over the changes, with the continued direction of William Flinchbaugh for the urban renewal work.  The Rome Common Council provided the legislative backing for all the legal paperwork and ensured that the city kept in mind the concerns of its citizens.  The opening of the new plant and offices of the Rome Daily Sentinel in November 1971 marked the first development by private enterprise in the urban renewal area.  A Philipson's store quickly followed, and work progressed on building residential and commercial spaces.[45]

            The city crystallized its conception of the central shopping plaza, located two blocks west of Fort Stanwix.  To encourage pedestrian traffic through the plaza area of West Dominick and Washington Streets and into the already established shopping center on Erie Boulevard, Rome built a living bridge, large enough to hold commercial establishments, across Erie Boulevard.  Additional parking came from underneath the central plaza and in two conveniently located parking garages at Liberty and George Streets and across from the fort on James Street.  On the northerly side of the central plaza stood the new Rome City Hall, focusing attention on the city's modernized downtown.  Other new buildings along the central area housed banks and retail developments.[46]

            With all of the bulldozing of buildings and construction of modern ones, many people in Rome felt the need to ensure visual harmony between the new downtown and the areas directly surrounding it.  The National Park Service also wanted assurances that the city's architectural elements around the fort would not adversely encroach upon the historic scene.  The Service understood that any modern buildings near the fort would look incongruous next to the fort, and this incongruity was seen as an asset, if carefully monitored.  Architectural/Engineering contractor Duryea and Wilhelmi noted in its Comprehensive Design Report that the “abruptness of change will only reinforce [the fort's] interpretive impact”[47] in comparison to the modern city.  But, concerns existed, especially with regard to building heights and the look and condition of buildings near the fort.  For example, the Park Service did not want tall buildings looking down into the fort, upsetting the eighteenth-century aura surrounding park visitors.  One suggestion for addressing architectural standards came from Rep. Alexander Pirnie in the late 1960s and early 1970s.  Pirnie thought that Rome ought to build on its historic past.  He envisioned a “Williamsburg of the North,”in which any construction in Rome's downtown would be true to the city's architectural past.  Instead of replacing everything with twentieth-century designs, Pirnie wanted to preserve and renovate what remained.  Rep. Sherwood Boehlert, who served as Pirnie's chief of staff, remembered Pirnie advocating for shops to dress their clerical help in period costumes.  Such an approach would set Rome apart from other Northeastern cities also undergoing urban renewal, making the city special and tying it directly with the fort.  Rome's Common Council discussed the idea, as urban renewal director Flinchbaugh remembered, but they ultimately chose new modern construction.[48]

            Still, the Park Service and others wanted some visual guidelines placed on new construction surrounding the fort and urban renewal area.  Supporters, including planning board member Parker Scripture, argued that such restrictions might be one of the most important first steps Rome could take to encourage tourism.  The legislation would bar shoddy commercial construction while also preserving buildings of architectural stature and interest that could draw tourists.  As Mayor Valentine stated, Rome did not want a “Coney Island atmosphere”to destroy the attractiveness of any of the historical or modern developments.  Instead, Valentine wanted tourists to feel so welcome that they would return and tell their friends.  In March 1971, the Common Council established a historic and scenic area zone to fall under the Historic and Scenic Preservation Regulations (Ordinance 3359), originally dating from November 1967.  The newly created zone extended from one to two blocks beyond the urban renewal area.  These regulations required approval of the planning board for any construction or alterations of buildings, with the intent of controlling such aspects as building heights and design considerations.  The Park Service noted these restrictions in its Environmental Assessment and Proposed Development Concept Plan for Fort Stanwix.[49]

            Valentine and others knew that if Rome wanted to build a strong tourism industry, the city would have to provide more attractions than Fort Stanwix.  Fortunately, the city had other connections to the nation's past, most notably being the home of the Erie Canal.  When Economic Research Associates analyzed the potential tourist trade in Rome in 1966, the firm included the development of an Erie Canal Village-Fort Bull attraction.  Turning Rome into such a museum town, “The City of American History,”would achieve visitation rates as high as 750,000 in 1977, the analysts predicted.  Such a tantalizing combination of historical attractions, according to Sentinel editor Fritz Updike, would certainly encourage people to travel some distance and spend the night to enjoy each site.  The tourism numbers would thus translate into needed tourism dollars.  Under the direction of the Historic Rome Development Authority (HRDA), the Erie Canal and Village began to take shape.  A million-dollar city bond, passed in April 1971, provided the initial funding.  Crews dredged the original canal bed and accompanying horse path between the South Charles Street location of the Village to Fort Bull, about two miles down.  Narrow-gauge tracks provided a four-mile roundtrip train ride for visitors.  The Canal Village included museums, a nineteenth-century home, a railroad station, a church, a school building, and visitor service buildings.  An outdoor amphitheatre would host productions depicting canal life.  In June 1973, Mayor Valentine officially christened the reproduction 1840-era packet boat Independence.  In its first two years of operation, the Erie Canal Village hosted more than 43,000 total visitors.[50]

            Other tourism efforts built on the base provided by Fort Stanwix and the Erie Canal Village.  In 1972, Dr. Gabler, who had sent Orville Carroll to see Fort Ligonier to compare its design features to Fort Stanwix, opened the Fort Rickey Game Farm with its collection of large animals.  To ensure publicity of these different sites and to coordinate group tours, Hanson and others started a committee on tourism.  This effort led to the creation of visitor information centers in Rome, publication of a historical map of the city, placement of signs around Rome, and resumption of a shuttle bus service.  Hanson also served on the Board of Directors of Leatherstocking Country, New York, a regional task force led by Rep. Donald Mitchell.  This group sought ways to tie together a regional package of tourism sites to attract visitors.[51]

            The Rome Historical Society continued to outfit its museum with pieces related to the city's past.  Two items in particular generated some publicity and recognition in 1974.  First, the society acquired a prized powder horn, carved by a James Young while stationed at the still-British fort in 1758.  This horn, showing the four walls of the fort and its main entrance and sallyport, joined six other powder horns in the collection.  A more remarkable found object appeared in October.  A local antiques dealer came across the long-lost 1897 Peter Hugunine painting of Fort Stanwix, called Willett's Sortie (See Fig. 3).  An aerial view of the sod and log fort, the painting shows Willett and his men outside the fort's walls, getting ready to raid the British and Indian encampments.  The painting had disappeared soon after its completion.  Its last public display had been in Utica in November 1897.  Hugunine had had postcards made from the painting, and they became the only visual record remaining until its re-discovery.  The society had the painting refurbished and then proudly displayed it in its museum.[52]

            Despite these promising efforts in Rome, signs of trouble rumbled just beneath the surface by 1976.  Merchants in the downtown area battled the urban renewal agency, arguing that the parking layout did not meet the needs of their shoppers.  Disagreements arose over who was responsible for maintaining the mall area, until the city finally assigned this duty to its parks department.  When planning and community development director Rodger Potocki started in September 1976, he gathered the battle-worn merchants together and spoke of open communication and participation.  Potocki offered an olive branch and reminded his audience that when Rome started its urban renewal program, there was a “feeling of almost total euphoria in Rome.”[53]  He wanted to get that feeling back, but he needed the merchants to work with the city and the urban renewal agency.

            But, the problems Rome faced in reviving its downtown went beyond olive branches and open communication.  Retail shopping in the United States had started to shift from city centers to fringe communities.  Large indoor malls attracted the newest retail establishments and shoppers eagerly followed.  With their main thoroughfare Dominick Street cut in half, residents of East Rome opted to take their cars and money to the new malls and shopping centers in nearby Utica rather than negotiate around Fort Stanwix and hunt for parking in an impersonal garage.  Urban renewal director Flinchbaugh had recognized the beginnings of this shift even as the city finalized its plans for the city center plaza, but the city remained steadfast.  Unfortunately, the predictions of a revitalized downtown did not materialize as people continued to take their shopping dollars elsewhere, and store after store closed.  A few signature retail establishments managed to stay alive, but the huge economic resurgence predicted in the 1960s from urban renewal did not materialize.[54]

Visitors and the fort

            In 1977, the disappointments of urban renewal remained muted in the wake of further celebrations for the bicentennial of the siege of Fort Stanwix.  A 21-day extravaganza culminated with a parade and fireworks on 20 August.  Several different marching and musical units, many in colonial dress, provided rousing music for the parade watchers.  Special programming remembered the sacrifices made at the Battle of Oriskany.  Other events during the extended Fort Stanwix Days included an open house at Griffiss AFB, an Ethnic Day, a Crafts Day, and a St. John the Baptist Church Italian Day.  To complete the fort's appearance for the events, personnel from the 416^th Civil Engineering crew at Griffiss used a forklift to mount three nine-pound reproduction cannon onto their gun carriages.  These cannon had rested inside the fort's Main Gate since the fort's opening in March 1976.[55]

            With the fort now feted in 1976 and 1977, planning moved forward on the second phase of the reconstruction project.  The Park Service identified three major areas to build:  the West and North Casemates; the Northeast, Southeast, and Northwest Bastions; and three bombproof passageways under the bastions.  Some parts of the original fort remain unreconstructed, including the Necessary or elevated privy, the Ravelin protecting the drawbridge, the Sallyport, and the Guardhouse and the Headquarters Building on the parade ground.  B. S. McCarey, under Joseph E. Smith Sr. and Joseph E. Smith Jr. won the second-phase contract as the lowest of two bidders.  Construction work, amounting to about $700,000, began in October 1977.  As was done for the first phase, steel and concrete provided the strength and durability while log facing gave the fort authenticity.[56]

            The log facing and its pressure treatment became an issue during the second-phase reconstruction.  Hanson and his staff discovered by mid-1977 a problem with pentachlorophenol (PCP) leaching out of the logs and forming crystals on the outside surfaces of the logs lining the office space used regularly by the park staff.  This situation occurred during the wood's weathering process, when excess PCP traveled to the log's surface and crystallized.  PCP is a highly toxic substance that is readily absorbed through the skin and can cause such adverse reactions as painful irritation of the mucous membranes of the nose, throat, and eyes.  Prolonged exposure could ultimately result in coma or death.  A January 1978 environmental-medical survey by the National Institute for Occupational Safety and Health (NIOSH) determined that airborne levels of PCP fell at about 40 percent of the Federal Standard levels, and urine samples of the effected park employees showed signs of the chemical.  Two employees reported having physical symptoms they attributed to the work environment.  In response to these results, NIOSH recommended moving the staff from the affected location and carefully removing the crystals through vacuuming and brushing.  In the end, the Park Service replaced the contaminated boards.[57]

            To prevent any further health contamination during the second phase of the reconstruction, the Park Service instructed McCarey Company to use untreated logs in full-log construction in the interior sections of the buildings.  This adaptation led to fungus growth.  Following the November 1978 completion of the second phase, the Park Service used portable heaters to heat the affected interior spaces at a 20- to 30-degree temperature differential from the exterior over the course of the winter.  This step accelerated the drying process, allowing the moisture content in the logs to drop below 20 percent and thereby curtail any future fungus growth.[58]

            With the logs in place and dried, the new fort visitor season opened in April 1979.  The South Casemate, which had served previously as the park's headquarters, became a sales and storage area.  An original brick fireplace graced the newly completed North Casemate.  This fireplace had required careful excavation and construction practices to ensure its stability and integrity.  As Hanson told one reporter, “We basically built the fort around that fireplace.”[59]  A glass case covered the fireplace to protect it from curious hands and other harmful conditions.  The North Casemate also contained the re-created officers'quarters.[60]

The redesigned fort museum did not open until December 1979.  At the dedication, Richard Stanton, director of the recently established NPS North Atlantic Region, presented Fritz Updike with a plaque and identification card naming him an honorary NPS Park Ranger for his unrelenting support of Fort Stanwix.  Updike himself remembered the work of the former owner and publisher of the Sentinel, Albert Remington Kessinger, who had lobbied for the 1935 legislation authorizing the establishment of the national monument.  The expanded museum, in the West Casemate, had many exhibits similar to those found when the fort opened in 1976.  Additional labeling, photographs, and text told a fuller story than was possible in the more limited space of the first museum.  Trade beads and fragments of utensils and weapons gave visitors a sense of the role played by area Indians at the time of the Revolutionary War.  A temporary exhibit displayed artifacts associated with founder Dominick Lynch and his family in Lynchville, the town that eventually became Rome.  Photographs of nineteenth-century buildings that had once stood on the fort site reminded visitors of the changes in Rome.  A four-minute continuing slide program described the fort's archeological excavation and reconstruction process.[61]

The museum's Indian artifact display built on the participation of Oneida Indians in the park's living-history program.  Hanson remembered that this participation came about when members of nearby tribes visited him in his office.  They had seen a young woman from the Explorer Scout Troop wear an Indian outfit, and they objected, thinking she was a white playing the part of Indians.  Hanson pointed out that she actually had Indian ancestry.  From this conversation evolved the idea that Oneidas would train and become involved in the fort's interpretive program.  Many of the Indians would not accept wages from the Park Service or other federal agencies, so Hanson turned to the Seneca Indian Nation's CETA (Comprehensive Employment and Training Act) program to pay for the Indians'time at the fort.  Syfert-Hines helped guide the five participants in uncovering the ways in which Indians of the eighteenth-century made their own clothing and designed their handicrafts.  The Oneidas also had a rich history in stories that they shared with interested visitors.  In summer 1978, as McCarey Company's construction crane and workers dotted the landscape, four Indian women portrayed traders at the fort while a man served as a scout.  Using the first-person living-history format, they displayed examples of handcrafts reminiscent of the eighteenth century and talked to visitors about different foodstuffs the Indians introduced to the soldier diet.  Breaking occasionally from their eighteenth-century roles, the Indians also provided their own perspective on Indian-white relations.  They reminded visitors that the Oneidas had owned the fort's land and thus could not be “thrown out”each night, as portrayed by the park.  They also tried to educate people about their continued use of the court system to seek the return of several million acres of land in central New York and billions of dollars in damages.  In summer 1979, the fort opened an Indian Trading Center to provide a space for the Oneidas to share their culture and role in the events at Fort Stanwix.[62]

Other interpretive activities at the fort included hosting encampments and sponsoring period musical entertainment.  Area scouts frequently requested and received permission to stay at the fort overnight.  The Garrison and its living-history program remained a staple, although the initial enthusiasm, driven by the Bicentennial, began to wane.  Discussion in early 1979 about how to revitalize the ranks of the Garrison (which had fallen to the not insignificant number of 90 people) included having more events both inside and outside the fort.[63]  Updike, always anxious to improve the attractiveness of Fort Stanwix to increase tourism, recommended broadening the time period to address the Indian treaties and other non-1777 historical events that had happened at Fort Stanwix.  “Why not drills, of foot soldiers and artillery, including firing practice, regularly outside the Fort?  Such activities where they can be seen by the passing public certainly would attract visitors, particularly those from out of town who now drive by understanding very little about what they are passing.”[64]  Hanson counseled caution toward such ideas.  He wanted to ensure that the fort's interpretive efforts did not end up creating a carnival atmosphere, detracting from the careful attention to authenticity that the National Park Service had poured into the fort's reconstruction and administration.  “Pageantry within the authenticity of the times”might spark increased interest, but Hanson also noted that “I don't know how we could stay authentic and not lose anything when we hoax it up.”[65]

Hanson strongly believed in the living-history approach he had established with the Garrison.  He wrote in 1980, “To me, if living history isn't first person, then it isn't living history.”[66]  But he understood its challenges.  Volunteers had to train in great depth so that they could portray their characters accurately and consistently without letting modern language or actions intrude.  If they let the twentieth-century escape, they could be reprimanded.  Syfert-Hines would gently pinch people to remind them to return to the eighteenth century.[67]  Hanson also knew that visitors had to be alerted as to the first-person approach to reduce confusion.  Despite these steps, some visitors still resisted the Garrison's technique.  A June 1979 article in a Syracuse newspaper described some visitors as disliking the approach because it made the colonial era “too real.”[68]  When Garrison volunteers exhibited surprise at questions that clearly went beyond the 1777-focus, some tourists found this response frustrating.  One Roman suggested having the sentry greet people and explain the first-person approach.  “Instead his actions and speech take the visitors by surprise, and it is very confusing for young and old alike.”[69]

            Hanson remained stalwart to his living-history program in part as a defensive response to the crescendo of critiques coming from Updike and other Romans.  Just as Rome's urban renewal efforts had begun in the late 1970s to show signs of depressed economic returns, the fort's visitation numbers dropped.  More than 210,000 people toured the fort its opening year, but less than half that number came in 1977. The numbers continued to spiral downward to around 66,000 in 1980, well after the second phase reconstruction, which hurt attendance records.  These results went in direct contradiction to economic research studies and National Park Service predictions.  The 1967 Fort Stanwix master plan reported that planning and development consultants Frank and Stein estimated visitor attendance to reach 800,000 by 1980.  In the 1974 Fort Stanwix Environmental Assessment and Development Concept Plan, the Park Service continued to reproduce rosy numbers, referring to the 1966 Economic Research Associates Report's figures of as much as 720,000 visitors by 1976.  Granted, these figures had been compiled by independent firms working under contract for the City of Rome and its agencies, but the Park Service gave them the stamp of legitimacy by reprinting them, without any comment, in its official reports.  Jerry Wagers, in his 1971 role as NPS coordinator for all New York State park sites, tried to temper expectations by offering 100,000 a year by 1980.  Updike and others grabbed onto all of these numbers, repeated them in print, and expected such returns.[70]  Hanson later said in exasperation, “I got so mad at the Park Service for throwing these numbers out in the first place.”[71]

            Readers of the Sentinel could chart the disappointing visitor numbers and share their own ideas of how to get the park back on track.  The paper published weekly accounts of the numbers of tourists who crossed the drawbridge into Fort Stanwix.  Some articles even gave totals for each day of the week.  Provided by Hanson, these numbers might rise one week and lag the next, and the newspaper always compared one year's numbers to the same week of the previous year, further deflating expectations.  Headlines would read “Fort Attendance Hurt by Weather”or “Sunny Skies Help Swell Attendance.”  Weather certainly factored into the decision for many people to visit the fort, but the Sentinel's readers pointed to other variables.  According to some of the letters to the editor published between 1977 and 1979, Rome needed to put up more signs and have a large welcome center, similar to the one used in Colonial Williamsburg, to direct tourists.  Dedicated onsite parking for Fort Stanwix visitors might make it easier to enter and exit while a grandstand and regular artillery demonstrations and military drilling might draw increased numbers of people.  Lighting the fort's outside walls at night might keep it from appearing like a black hole and entice people to tour it in the daytime.  Freshening up the city's appearance by making sure walkways remained clear and stores looked attractive might convince people to return.  Having the city publicize its attractions consistently and aggressively might also help, these letters to the editor suggested.[72]

            Hanson routinely informed people like Fritz Updike that Park Service policy prohibited Fort Stanwix itself from advertising.[73]  This statement was not entirely accurate.  The National Park Service, since its 1916 founding, has promoted its sites in coordinated campaigns, as evidenced in the Bicentennial celebrations.  In the 1930s, the Service had a publicity department that routinely developed packages for individual parks to use in advertising.[74]  Congress may not have allowed Fort Stanwix to use taxpayer money to pay for specific advertisements in the newspapers, but the park could write articles and encourage regular contact with the press to publicize events.  Hanson took a different approach, contributing to local and regional tourism groups.  He served as chair of the Fort Stanwix Days planning committee for many years.  He also appeared on local radio stations with soon-to-be-mayor Carl Eilenberg, presenting weekly one-minute spots about activities and providing historical background.[75]  But, his desire to stay true to his vision of living history and forego regular publicity-generating events did not encourage large numbers of visitors to return to the fort.  Off hand statements, published in the Sentinel, such as “If you saw the fort last summer, you'll have a good picture of what it will be like this summer,”[76] are not words to encourage repeat visits.  Updike made a special plea for more events and activities at the fort to generate tourist interest, to counteract a “tone of negativism among spokesmen of the National Park Service.”[77]

            National economic conditions perhaps had a larger role in discouraging travel to Fort Stanwix.  Persistent gas shortages, an energy crisis, and a failing national economy took a toll on fort visitation.  When Hanson checked the park guest register for 1979, he found that the numbers of people visiting beyond a 50-mile radius from the fort dropped while those within that radius increased.  Such findings he attributed to the gas shortage, although they could also be explained by the lack of concerted publicity beyond the fort's immediate surroundings.[78]

            Fort Stanwix did try to better assist those visitors who did come.  In response to concerns raised about the meadow surrounding the fort, with tall grass that some considered difficult to see across, Hanson agreed to mow it about once a month.  However, he wanted to maintain some historicity, leaving some height so that it did not look like a manicured lawn.  Chemical treatment and elevating the pathways around the fort helped to reduce the mud problem that had discouraged visitors during certain times of the year.  To brighten the fort's appearance at night, the Park Service lighted the flagpole.[79]

            Fort Stanwix was not alone in seeing significant drops in visitation.  Attendance at the Erie Canal Village also saw dramatic declines once the Bicentennial period passed.  Hosting 44,000 people in 1976 but only 33,000 the following year, the Village faced possible closure from the large loss in revenue.  Updike blamed the Historic Rome Development Authority for not advertising the Village adequately.  The contrast to New York State's “I Love NY”campaign stood starkly against the Roman experience.  Statewide tourism figures had increased 3.8 percent in six months thanks to the highly visible and memorable campaign.  Rome did not see any benefits.  In 1978, the city's Convention and Visitors Bureau and its manager Ann Peach took on the challenge of publicizing all of Rome's attractions in a concerted program.  Requests for information skyrocketed as a result, but by September of 1979, Updike had to write a “Let's Keep the Village Open”editorial, counseling Rome to stick with its tourism commitment.  The future of tourism in Rome remained clouded.[80]

Moving on

            Some of the people who had made a huge influence on Rome's tourism efforts left the work of revitalizing area attractions to new people.  Mayor Valentine, after 16 years at the head of the city, retired in December 1979.  His effectiveness in dealing with recent challenges had been hampered by poor health, including Parkinson's disease, but he looked upon the urban renewal effort and tourism commitment as positive steps toward revitalizing the city.  “If we hadn't gone into the UR project,”he told the Sentinel, “I'm sure downtown would be a sorry sight today.”[81]  Valentine advised his successor, Carl Eilenberg, to “surround himself with knowledgeable, loyal, hard-working people”[82] to succeed, just as Valentine had done. 

            At Fort Stanwix, Larry Lowenthal left in 1979 to become a historian at the Springfield Armory National Historic Site in Massachusetts.  Sandra Lang replaced him as supervisory park ranger.  Lang received her ranger training at Saratoga National Battlefield Park.  She had also served at Great Falls Park in the Washington, DC, area and at Harpers Ferry National Historical Park in West Virginia.  A Baltimore native, Lang would institute new programming, such as Noontime Fare, offering regular talks on Fort Stanwix-related historical subjects to people who worked or lunched downtown.[83]

            Lee Hanson left the park in November 1980 to become chief of professional services for the Gateway National Recreation Area in New York City.  In a parting piece, Updike described Hanson as “a zealot for accuracy and unmovable where he believes integrity is involved. . . .”[84]  Hanson reflected that his greatest accomplishments at the national monument included getting the fort built on time and starting the Garrison.  By giving it the name of Fort Stanwix Garrison, he gave it an image, something people wanted to belong to and make successful.[85]  Updike believed that Hanson's guiding influence assured its accuracy in portraying life in a frontier post.

Hanson recognized, though, that he as a person had become “wrapped up in [Fort Stanwix] emotionally as well as physically,”stagnating creativity.  “You can stop coming up with ideas after awhile,”[86] he told one reporter.  He did institute a few changes in his last two years at the park.  Beginning in 1979, the fort closed to visitors from January through March (since previous years had demonstrated low visitation), but as a way to honor Washington's Birthday, Hanson allowed a special February encampment.  Cold temperatures did not detract from the first event, leading Hanson to suggest it on annual basis.  The winter encampment allowed living-history interpreters to delve fully into the difficult conditions of eighteenth-century soldiers.  For the Fort Stanwix Days celebration in 1980, Hanson invited colonial balladeer Linda Russell from Federal Hall National Monument in Philadelphia to perform.  This idea might be one of Hanson's most lasting and unusual legacies.  Russell has come back year after year to growing crowds of appreciative listeners.[87] 

Hanson had always been one to jump right into a situation.  In the days before he became the official superintendent, he had dressed as Col. Peter Gansevoort, complete with his own ponytail.  He later got a haircut to fit his superintendency role.  With just a few paid staff members, Hanson took it upon himself to contribute in every way he could.  “I don't think there was anything in the fort that I didn't do myself,”from interpreting to cleaning bathrooms to acting as security guard at night.  “I felt like, if I'm going to have credibility, then I'm going to have to do it, too.”[88]  This hands-on approach characterized Hanson's leadership at the park.  As Martin remembered later, Hanson stepped back a bit for park historian Lowenthal to handle budget issues and historical research, but special events continued to fall under Hanson's direct supervision.  Martin himself, as a park aid and then park technician, often dealt with the daily fort visitor operations.[89]  Hanson paid special attention to the relationship between his paid staff and the Garrison volunteers.  “The paid employees and the volunteers worked hand-in-glove.  They really were like the same people. . . . .They were all able to do it the same, and there were no jealousies between the people. . . .”[90]  By having softball games, an annual eighteenth-century ball, and other shared activities, Hanson ensured that these good feelings remained.[91] 

In thinking about his decade of experience at Fort Stanwix and how it would help him with his new position, Hanson believed that “I'm still just as brash and cocky as always, but now I know how to handle affairs better, and I know more about the political process.”[92]  Hanson gained this confidence through his regular interactions with political and civic leaders throughout Central New York.  He had volunteered his time and talents in many productive ways, on tourism boards, in public school system committees, as chairman of the Fort Stanwix Days observance, and on the board of the Rome Voluntary Action Center.  His many awards and recognitions for this service spoke to his commitment to Rome and its community, beyond his duties as superintendent of Fort Stanwix National Monument.[93]