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Rhode Island State Parks - The Vision (1909)

This map is from the Second Annual Report of the Metropolitan Park Commissioners, 1906. Areas in green depictexisting public open spaces. Those in orange indicate the aims of the Commissioners for parkland expansion.Desirable river park corridors and potential scenic parkways are also in orange.

By:Albert T. Klyberg, L.H.D.

DEM NaturalistKelly House Museum

Dedication

This book is dedicated to the men and women who have served and are serving the people ofRhode Island as stewards of our park, beaches, bikeways, woodlands and recreational facilities.

Their service took the form of Board of Commissioners, chiefs of the Parks and RecreationDivision, planners, managers, supervisors, rangers, naturalists, office staff, lifeguards and laborers.The object of their energies is to preserve and maintain our parks while offering access and enjoy-

ment to millions of our citizens and visitors every year in all seasons.

Acknowledgements

The author is particularly grateful to the following people for assistance and support in the courseof assembling the data for this publication: Thomas Evans, State Librarian, Ken Carlson of theState Archives, Karen Eberhart, Librarian of the Rhode Island Historical Society, Sue Stenhouseof the Governor’s Office, Steven Wright, Robert Paquette, Terri Bisson and Felicia Celeberto of

the Department of Environmental Management.

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Contributors

DDEEMM DDiivviissiioonn ooff PPaarrkkss aanndd RReeccrreeaattiioonn::Robert Paquette, Chief

Steven Wright, SuperintendentFelicia Celeberto, Senior Clerk

Alan Stone, Seasonal Technical Support InternThomas Rosa, Asst. Park Ranger Coordinator

DDEEMM DDiivviissiioonn ooff PPllaannnniinngg && DDeevveellooppmmeenntt::Terri Bisson, Programming Services Officer

Sofiane Lazar, Seasonal Policy InternMolly Plain, Seasonal Policy Intern

Published By

State of Rhode IslandDepartment of Environmental Management

W. Michael Sullivan, DirectorLarry Mouradjian, Associate Director

Design/layout

Terri Bisson

Printed By

Meridian Printing1583 South County Trail • East Greenwich, RI 02818

(401) 885-4882 • (800) 870-4880www.meridianprinting.com

A Paradise Found: Verrazzano’s Vision of a New Golden Land, 1524

“We discovered a triangular shaped island (Block Island), tenleagues from the mainland, similar in size to the Island of Rhodes; it wasfull of hills, covered in trees, and highly populated to judge by the fires wesaw burning continually along the shore….We reached another land 25leagues from the island, where we found an excellent harbor (NarragansettBay)…The harbor mouth which we call “Refugio,”(the safe haven) facessouth and is half a league wide; from its entrance extends for 12 leagues ina northeasterly direction, and then widens out to form a large bay ofabout 20 leagues in circumference. In this bay are five small islands, veryfertile, very beautiful, full of tall spreading trees, and any large fleet couldride safely among them without fear to tempest or other dangers. Thengoing southward to the entrance of the harbor, there are very pleasanthills on either side, with many streams of clear water flowing from highland into the sea.

…We stayed there for 15 days, taking advantage of the place torefresh ourselves. …We frequently went five to six leagues into the interi-or, and found it as pleasant as I can possibly describe, and suitable forevery kind of cultivation – grain, wine or oil. For there the fields extendfor 25 to 30 leagues; they are open and free of any obstacles or trees, andso fertile that any kind of seed would produce excellent crops. Then weentered the forests, which could be penetrated even by a large army; thetrees are oaks, cypresses, and others unknown in our Europe.”

Prologue

1

Officially, 100 years of parks in Rhode Islandbegan with a meeting of the Providence MetropolitanPark District Commission on Abraham Lincoln’s birth-day, February 12, 1909. It took place in the graciousrooms of the Hearthside mansion in the Town ofLincoln, marking the acquisition of a nearby tract ofland which became Lincoln Woods State Park.

Although this meeting began the formal start ofthe state parks system, the paths and milestones leadingto the Hearthside mansion that night were almost aslong and almost as old as Great Road itself. GreatRoad, the Quaker path from Saylesville to WoonsocketHill, owed its origins to the revival of trade and trafficfrom the northern outlands of Rhode Island to thetown of Providence, following the King Philip’s IndianWar of 1675-1676. Setting aside community-ownedland for work and play in Rhode Island began nearly aslong ago as that.

Ever the ‘otherwise-minded,’ Rhode Island’sleaders, contrary to the practices of the rest of the NewEngland colonies, declined to follow the guidelines ofthe widely used document, known as the ‘Ordering ofthe Towns.’ This was the village template, or model,used by Puritans from New Hampshire to the southernConnecticut border to lay out the main features of newtowns. The ‘Ordering of the Towns’ called for a towncommon as the center of each new settlement andmandated, at public expense, a meeting house for bothworship and government. A minister’s manse, or home,was also built nearby. There was also to be a public bur-ial ground for the town’s dead.

In Rhode Island, however, ‘by the custom ofthe neighbors,’ religious services took place in privatehomes, not in the town house. Unlike most of NewEngland, in Rhode Island often there was more thanone religious point of view and therefore more thanone ‘church.’ When a congregation was large enoughfor its own church building, a corporate society for reli-gious purposes was formed. This body then purchasedand developed a piece of private property for its reli-

gious observances. No public funds, no taxes, were tobe used for these religious activities. Burial yards andcemeteries also became the responsibility of a privatesociety, a congregation, or the rural families, scattered atsome distance from the towns. They set aside smallfamily plots. Today there are several thousand of thesescattered in woodlands and fields.

In Rhode Island, religion was a private matter— strong in its own right, functioning under its ownsteam, neither requiring nor seeking any endorsementfrom government. Rhode Islanders saw no need for thetaxes of citizens to prop it up. Consequently, because ofthis approach to religious property, Rhode Island townsdid not arise on a rectangular, gridded system of realestate, around a town common, with an officially sanc-tioned Puritan meeting house standing in the middle.Rather, the dissenting settlements of the NarragansettBay country grew up along linear streetscapes, parallel-ing a river or harbor. Grave yards were either sited onfamily land, or, as in Newport and Providence, theywere located on the fringe of the built-up portions ofthe town. Thus, unlike the rest of New England, RhodeIsland had few of the public spaces which would latermetamorphose into public parks.

In the 17th century, throughout New England,however, public spaces reserved for play and recreation,or even for inspiration or reflection, were not high onthe town agenda of either the Puritans, or the RhodeIsland dissenters. There was too much work to be done;non-work time was devoted to worship and Godlyworks. Idleness and ‘play’ were not encouraged; leisureand recreation was regarded as frivolous, wasteful —even sinful.

By the time the religious refugees, led by RogerWilliams, Anne Hutchinson, Samuel Gorton, and otherssettled Rhode Island, their 17th century attitudes aboutthe land also differed significantly from the golden out-look of the Renaissance navigators like Verrazzano. Tothe minds of the Puritan outcasts, the New Englandlandscape was seen often as a ‘howling’ wilderness not

The Public Parks Movement in Rhode Island

2

as a bountiful Eden. The New Landwas a wild thing, something to be‘brought under control’, its nativeswere regarded as heathens to befeared or won over to Christianity.Nature was to be ‘subjugated.’Although Roger Williams was moregenerous and more kindly to theIndians than his other NewEngland counterparts, a darkervision of a not-so-golden land char-acterized the outlook of many ofhis contemporaries. Life on earthwas considered hard, cruel andshort; rewards for hard work andfaithfulness were granted in thenext world, not in this one.

In the centuries which fol-lowed original settlement, however,several developments contributed tochange in public opinion aboutnature and land use, leading the wayto public parklands. In 18th centuryRhode Island, town leaders favoredthe practice of establishing marketsquares for trade and fairs. Duringthe colonial wars between Britainand France, open space was usedfor militia parade grounds, andmuster training days were frequent.Washington Square in Newport, orthe parade of the Old State Housein Providence, were used this way.On occasion, these grounds werealso employed for open air celebra-tions and public events such as thereading of public proclamations. Attimes, they took on a festival atmos-

phere that was later associated withparks, such as the gala reception forLafayette’s return to America in1824. This occurred on the slopinglawn in front of the Old StateHouse in Providence. Another pop-ular gathering place was the greathill top in Providence overlookingthe Cove, and site of the modernstate house. It was known as theJefferson Plain, and it was the sceneof many open air rallies and oxroasts in the Constitutional popularuprising of 1842, known as theDorr Rebellion.

The literary and artisticfashions of the early 19th century

also promoted a romanticage - a time of inspiring sto-ries and uplifting poetry andof colorful landscape paint-ings celebrating a luminousview of nature. From thesethemes, the idea of natural

spaces facilitating outdoor recre-ation, or communing with creationcame into vogue. One of those whothought along these lines was Dorr’sbrother-in-law, the industrialist,Zachariah Allen, who felt compelledto balance the ledger of land devot-ed to industrial use by addinggroves and kitchen gardens to theadjacent natural setting. He built lit-tle parks for his factory villages.Allen held that rural landscape set-tings in factory villages would takethe tarnish off the industrial grimeand ugliness he had seen incramped urban factory districts inEngland. He didn’t want to spoilAmerica. He envisioned somethingbetter, more aesthetic for Americanindustry. The new American repub-lic, according to his lights, should bea kind of Greek Arcadia, a wood-

land ideal, where industry did nothave to stain the landscape withsmoky, crowded, grimy cities, butrather flourish in little manufactur-ing villages along bountiful streamswith a moral and cheerful rusticenvironment. One of Allen’s experi-ments in assisting nature was theestablishment of a silviculture plot(an experimental tree farm) in aportion of the land that becameLincoln Woods State Park. Allen’svillages were Allendale andGeorgiaville. They were patternedafter the original factory villagertemplate of Slatersville, establishedby Samuel and John Slater in NorthSmithfield on the Branch River.

At the same time as the fac-tory village pattern appeared, theidea of the 19th century rural ceme-tery movement also arrived. Therural cemetery ‘enthusiasm’ promot-ed the concept of replacing the oldstyle of formal rows of gravestonesand narrow paths with scenic, pic-turesque burial grounds. This ideaof park-like cemeteries began with-in the growing cities of Boston,New York and Philadelphia andrapidly gained attention elsewhere.Swan Point in Providence was thelocal version of this movement.Pondering mortality – life anddeath— across scenic views withcurvilinear cart paths, floweringbeds, ornamental plantings thatserved as backgrounds for substan-tial granite tablets, obelisks, andfuneral urns was thought to bemore elevating and inspiring thanthe grids of slate tomb stonesbounded by stone walls. By the sec-ond decade of the 1800s, the grimdeaths heads that once glared theirwarnings to the living were replaced

“The great advantage of open spaces incities is that they supply the densely populated neighbor-hoods with pure air.”’

Dr. Timothy Newell, Chair of the parks committee,

Providence Franklin Society, January, 1883.

3

by faces of cherubs and flower wreaths. The newmemorial parks became a place for communing withnature rather than a place of sorrow.

By mid-century industrial fortunes allowed lead-ing members of the community to build fine residencesin rural areas on the fringe of cities and permittedleisure time to travel to Europe. There, they saw thegardens of royalty and the deer parks of the gentry.They became aware of English Victorian-era landscapedesigns and newly-developing interests in scientific hor-ticulture. European styles offered a park-like examplefor domestic landscape planning, easily transferred toAmerica. The experience had impact on the way pros-perous Americans thought about using outdoor space.

An additional influence leading to the emer-gence of a public park ideal came at the end of theAmerican Civil War. There was a surge of both patriot-ism and relief from the war’s daily death-toll. This tookthe form of setting aside prominent new public spacesor redesigning older ones for statues to the fallen or theretirement of a Civil War cannon in a place of honor.Westerly, Rhode Island produced granite monumentsthat listed the war dead and outdoor ‘funeral furniture’became a popular ingredient and focal point in thesememorial settings. Prominent town squares and plazasassumed the function of commemorating the eventsand sacrifices of the Civil War. ‘Decoration Day’ cere-monies at cemeteries and formal orations at gazebosand bandstands became a common sight in the yearsfollowing. Many city parks, like Roger Williams Park inProvidence (1871), were developed containing suchcommemorative elements.

Simultaneous to this ‘monuments’ movement atthe end of the 19th century, was the growing publichealth concern that urban areas, with large smoke-belching factories and polluted streams, required notonly sanitation solutions but also new public spaces toserve as the ‘lungs of the city.’ This public health ideaspawned a public parks movement in many parts of the

country, but particularly in the old, industrial Northeast.In the years following the Civil War, the 35 years lead-ing up to 1900, the scale of industry, and its importanceto American life, dwarfed nearly all the early attemptsby Zachariah Allen and other entrepreneurs who want-ed to maintain the system of small factory villagesalong pleasant New England streams. Industrial needsand economies of scale had begun to trump their ruralcompetitors right from the first. Sprawling urban indus-trial districts within cities became the dominant modelfor American factory production.

From the beginning, factory interests ratherthan farms became national policy. Even in the 1790sof Samuel Slater and Moses Brown, the property rightsof mill owners rolled over the lawsuits of farmers seek-ing to protect their fields from flooding caused by theerection of dams to power machinery. Also, the result-ing loss of migrating fish, which were prevented fromreturning to their up-stream spawning grounds, wasruled on by the courts as an acceptable cost when bal-anced by the ‘progress’ offered by the new manufactur-ing technology. At the end of the 19th century, the pol-lution ravages upon the rivers of New England causedby manufacturing had clearly, and unmistakably dealtthe paradisical vision of Verrazzano and the earlyromantics a harsh blow. The New Golden Land of thefirst voyagers was tarnished. Paradise was lost! TheMachine had destroyed the Garden!

Regaining Paradise then became one of thegoals and ambitions of the various progressive initia-tives aimed towards the founding of parks. At this time,the arrival of the profession of landscape architecturewas another key development leading to the ‘invention’of the modern state park. The assistance played in therise of this profession by the new phenomenon ofworld fairs was enormous. Among the most influentialof these was the Philadelphia Centennial Celebrationheld in Fairmount Park in 1876. Equally influential wasthe Chicago Columbian Exposition of 1893. Whilethese fairs were famous for entertaining midways, cir-cus-like sideshows, carousels, beer gardens and ferriswheels, they were also responsible for the stunningarray of parks, lagoons and inspiring view-corridors.The accompanying exhibit buildings in neo-classicalstyle reminiscent of Greece and Rome were heralded asAmerica’s White City.

“The Metropolitan Park movement was started to pre-

serve already existing recreation space in danger of loss due to devel-opment.”

Henry A. Barker, Providence Magazine, 1916

4

The sheer size of the fair phenomenon andassociated landscapes required a whole new group ofplanners and designers from the established typicalarchitectural firms. Frederick Law Olmsted, CalvertVaux, and Daniel H. Burnham were among the mainpractitioners of this new art form of pleasure groundsfor the people. The White City along the shores ofLake Michigan was not just a brief moment of fairstagecraft. Its popularity evolved into a demand formore of the same by cities all over the country.

The Fair’s designers had a lot of demands fortheir services. Coming out of this extravaganza was thearchitectural movement known as the City BeautifulMovement – a combination of monumental classical-style buildings and sweeping public vistas with amply-planted corridors and alleys of majestic trees and gor-geous gardens. The City Beautiful Movement also coin-cided with the rise of the city planning profession.While one of the characteristics of the movement wasthe efficient reorganizing of municipal services in cen-tral plazas, called ‘civic centers,’ the movement had a bigeffect on beautifying urban areas with a secondaryeffect on influencing a momentum for large publicparks.

Many people from Rhode Island attended theworld’s fairs, and the dividends of that experience tookthe form of the expansion of Roger Williams Park andthe formal establishment of the plaza between CityHall and the Federal Court Building to be theProvidence Civic Center. Known as Exchange Place,named for the Butler Exchange building, it was anotherkind of exchange activity that made it the center ofthings. It was here that the trolleys from all over thestate converged to greet the crowds exiting the trains ofnearby Union Station.

Crowning and overseeing the view below wasthe new Rhode Island State House on Jefferson Plain.In between the new state house and the civic center wasthe old Providence Cove. Whether the Cove lands wereto be used to supply the needs of the train station or tobe converted into a public park became a controversythat spread over the decades of the 1880s and 1890s.Finally resolved in favor of the railroad interests, thestruggle, nonetheless, produced an energetic, progres-sive public lobby that shaped public park policy longinto the 20th century. The Public Park Association wasthe early version of Save the Bay.

The Public Park Association

Of all of these influences and milestonestowards a state park system, the emergence of thePublic Park Association was the most important turningpoint leading to Lincoln Woods. The Public ParkAssociation built upon all of the other park trends andthen added a momentum of its own. Begun in 1883 bya group of important business and civic leaders, thePublic Park Association is best known for its battle towrest the Cove Lands away from the railroad interests,which sought to fill in the cove with rail yards andfreight terminal services.

The Public Park Association favored a publicpark with lagoons, pedestrian bridges and bandstands,instead. However, the park association’s work eventuallywent way beyond that of the cove controversy. It pub-

lished a dozen pamphlets and leaflets devoted to healthand social benefits of parks, pin-pointing particularlocations for community action. Its advocacy for theneed and desirability of parks throughout the capitalcity, and its far-sighted vision for a ring of parks aroundthe rim of the metropolitan area - connected toProvidence by a set of spokes in the form of scenicparkways and boulevards - truly forecast the first visionof a state park system. The work of the Public ParkAssociation led to the establishment of a state parkcommission, a public bond issue, and the meeting at theHearthside in February of 1909 which let to the acqui-sition of Lincoln Woods.

Their effort was directly aimed at regaining theparadise described by Verrazzano which they felt had

1883-1903

5

been lost by the excesses of indus-try at work for nearly a century. Ittook nearly another century fortheir vision to gain fruition and tobe fully realized.

The origins of this progres-sive reform group were modest.The Public Park Association wasthe outgrowth of a committee ofthe Providence Franklin Society.Founded in 1821, and incorporatedin 1823, the Providence FranklinSociety (not to be confused with theProvidence Franklin Lyceum) wasan association of amateur scientistsattempting to improve and advancethe educated layman’s knowledge ofchemistry.

By the late 1820s they weresponsoring weekly lectures whichexpanded beyond their initial inter-est in chemistry and extended toother fields of science. They pub-

lished their talks in a magazine of“collections.” Throughout their his-tory, befitting the organization’snamesake, Benjamin Franklin, theymaintained a curiosity into a widerange of subjects, and they soughtto apply that intellectual vigor intopractical matters affecting the cul-ture of the community. In the1870s, for example, the FranklinSociety became advocates and sup-porters for a move to found alibrary for the public— a free publiclibrary, which would be more acces-sible to a broader range of peoplethan the Providence Athenaeum,where one had to subscribe with anannual member’s fee to borrowbooks.

One of the leaders of theFranklin Society, Joseph Barker,made a substantial financial dona-tion that hastened the emergence ofThe Providence Public Library. In

similar fashion, in the early 1880sthe Franklin Society set up a com-mittee to examine the merits ofpublic parks. This was prompted bya proposal of the Providence andWorcester Railroad to the CityCouncil to make over the tidal coveformed by the junction of theMoshassuck and WoonasquatucketRivers.

This committee of theFranklin Society concluded that apark would be a better use of thiscentral water feature, and spun offthe Providence Public ParkAssociation as a true public lobby-ing organization in 1883. Theimmediate goal was to get theProvidence City Council to rejectthe report urging railroad uses forthe same space.

The new Public ParkAssociation capitalized on severaldecades of interest in the way parks

Lincoln Woods was not only the first acquisition of theMetropolitan Park Commission, it was also the park system’s center-piece until the gift of Goddard Memorial nearly 20 years later. Arugged hilly, tree-lined, upland, strewn with giant boulders, it is hard toimagine today that much of the land around Olney Pond had beenfields and meadows of the Olney, Arnold, Comstock, and Mitchellfamilies for nearly two centuries prior to its set-aside as a ‘nature’reserve. The pond itself is more man-made than natural, caused by astone dam at the east end providing water power for a thread mill ofthe Olney family. The mill, a wooden three-story affair, had its ownworkers’ houses and a store. The Manchester Print Works entrance toLincoln Woods had another mill on the Mosshasuck River that mean-ders along the park’s northeastern border. Once an independent facto-ry for the printing of cloth from nearby mills, the print works was ahard-luck operation, having burned down three times and explodingon another occasion before William and Frederick Sayles decided notto rebuild it and carried on its functions in their own bleachery andprinting establishment further on down stream.

Originally, the Metropolitan Park Commission planned toincorporate the Quinsnicket Portion of Lincoln Woods and the lands

of the Olneys and Arnolds with a cluster of buildings on top of thenearby Stump Hill, overlooking Saylesville, but the latter was eventuallykept out of the park and served the Pawtucket water system as a reser-voir and water tower. The original park, or reservation, at first onlyincluded the land from Breakneck Hill to the northern edge of thepond. Additional purchases filled it out to the 627 acres of today.Trails and hiking paths, athletic fields, beach facilities, fire places, pic-nic groves and thousands of new trees were introduced over the years.Nearly all of the historic structures that once dotted the landscape havegone, giving it a much more natural setting than it had in its earlyyears as a park.

Lincoln Woods was highly popular from the first, evenbefore its bathing beach became one of the best known city pools ofProvidence, Central Falls and Pawtucket. Families came by trolley fromCharles Street and Louisquisset Pike to the Quinsnicket station; it wasknown as the Providence and Burrillville Railway. One could alsocome up Smithfield Avenue to Walker Street by trolley. The LincolnWoods Dairy at Great Road and Smithfield Avenue was whereSaylesville cows’ milk was turned into ice cream right before your eyes,only adding to the treat of the trek to Lincoln Woods.

Rhode Island’s First State Park - Lincoln Woods

6

could contribute to the growth of cities, and they hadmuch available information to ponder. The mid-centuryProvidence Mayor, Thomas A. Doyle, who had servedfor 18 years, made the issue of municipal parks one ofthe elements he felt that any ambitious modern cityshould consider.

In 1868 Doyle had suggested turning Field’sPoint’s 350 acres on the western shore of NarragansettBay into a city park. It could be accessed easily by pas-senger boats from the downtown, and Colonel Atwellwas already turning the bluff above it, formerly aRevolutionary Era fortification, into a shore dinner halland pleasure ground. While the City Council weighedDoyle’s recommendation in 1871, the estate of BetsyWilliams’ nearby 102 acre farm was willed to the Cityfor park uses. Many reformers saw park use of leisuretime as a better alternative to the popularity of thesaloon.

Although at first reluctant to accept a propertyso far removed from the center of Providence, the CityCouncil agreed to the gift of Betsy Williams. Horse-drawn, then later electric trolleys made Roger WilliamsPark a destination for all. A lake with a boat house, amenagerie which evolved into a zoo, a casino and band-stand, a natural history museum and a ‘Temple toMusic,’ all eventually grew into a major attraction forfamily outings and picnics, provoking an appetite formore such experiences throughout the urban and indus-trialized northern region of greater Providence andenvirons.

This was also the age, when south ofProvidence, both edges of Narragansett Bay boastedshore dinner halls and amusement parks extendingfrom Riverside in East Providence to Rocky Point inWarwick. However, many of these places were beyondthe convenience of city dwellers, except for a once ayear excursion.

By the time the Public Park Association expressedinterest in the Cove site, the old basin, with its promenade,was showing signs of neglect and wear. Instead ofadopting the park plan of walks and islands, the CityCouncil opted to fill it in with railroad trestles and ter-minal sidings. The Woonasquatucket and Moshassuck

Rivers were first canalized then rendered nearly invisibleby the welter of bridges and rail yards. With nearly 300trains a day chugging in and out of Union Station, astrong case was made that the railroad was central tothe sustained growth of the city as a whole, and in par-ticular, of the Valley Street industrial corridor whichincluded Brown and Sharpe, Nicholson File, theAmerican Locomotive Company and a string of woolenmills all the way to Olneyville.

At the beginning of the 20th century, as the newState House went up to preside over this land use choice,the orange brick row of buildings now the home of theRhode Island Foundation, the Chamber of Commerce,and lower level restaurants, formed a wall separating therailroad yards from the civic center of Exchange Place.The flatland below the new state house was just toovaluable to convert into pleasure grounds for the pub-lic, so the thinking of the time went. Central city trans-portation links by rail and nearby steamship piers alongthe crescent at the head of Narragansett Bay, now IndiaPark, were too vital to the economy of the 12th largestindustrial district in America. Parks in these areas hadto wait, and they did for three quarters of a century.

Just as it had once been a fashionable choice tolocate lands for cemeteries on the fringe of the colonialtowns, it now became fashionable to propose locatinglands for public life on the fringes of the metropolitanarea. Within a 12 mile radius of the Cove lived nearlythree quarters of the state’s population in the year 1900.The Public Park Association shifted its attention fromthe mud flats of the Cove to the broad canvas ofstreams, hills, and woods of the greater Providencemetropolitan area. The Boston Fenway network ofparks became its model.

Simultaneously, in 1904, the Rhode Island legis-lature authorized both a system of paved highways anda ring of state parks. Interestingly enough, the drivingforces for both the highway system and the park systemwere public lobbying groups. For highways it was notso much the owners of autos, as it was the bicyclelobby. A bicycling craze had swept through America inthe 1890s, and Rhode Island was no exception. Clubslike the Rhode Island Wheelmen petitioned for pavedroads. Similar to the Wheelmen, the Public Park

7

The Metropolitan Park Commission

Even though the Public Park Association lostits battle with the railroad interests, they won the warfor public parks. Not only were they the driving forcebehind the General Assembly’s law setting up a statepark system under the aegis of a Metropolitan ParkCommission, they actually set the agenda for theCommission and drove its activities well into the era ofWorld War I and beyond. As was typical of many newadministrative bodies in the so-called Progressive Era ofAmerican state government, the new park commissionwas made up of representatives from the municipalitiescomprising the park district. The ProvidenceMetropolitan district as defined by the legislation wasmade up of three cities and six towns. The municipali-ties represented on the Commission were: the mayors

of Providence, Pawtucket, and Central Falls, theCouncil Presidents of East Providence, Cranston,Warwick, Johnston, North Providence and Lincoln.Also appointed to the Commission were the Presidentsof Brown University, the Providence Art Club, theChamber of Commerce and the Director of the RhodeIsland School of Design. Then there were six membersof the Public Park Association. Tellingly, it was all themembers of the Park Association which comprised theCommission’s Executive Committee. The six membersfrom the Public Park Association framed policy anddrove the program. The agenda adopted by theCommission had been gathering momentum for 20years. Appointed in late summer of 1904 for the atten-tion of the General Assembly in its 1905 session, theCommission rolled out a program of action straight outof the Park Association’s pamphlets and tracts of theprevious decade.

The Association’s delegation to the newCommission included: two prominent local architects -Alfred Stone of the firm of Stone, Carpenter andWillson and Edward F. Ely; engineer John R. Freemanwho had built a dam for the Boston public water supply

1904-1934

Association set out the case for parks and recreation.While possibly unintentional, these two programsplayed off one another well into the next century.

Interestingly enough, however, it was anothertechnology that made the dispersed parks accessible tothe majority of the population. By the mid 1890s trol-leys went from horse power to electrification, whichexpanded the reach of public transportation, not onlywithin the City, but far into the countryside as well. Bythe first decade of the 20th century, trolleys ran fromWesterly to Woonsocket. Getting to the ring of parksaround Providence for most people was first accom-plished by trolleys, although designs trumpeted spokesof a scenic system of boulevards and parkways thatwere ostensibly to be for automobiles.

From 1904 until 1916 in the pages of the Boardof Trade Journal, official publication of the ProvidenceBoard of Trade and later the Chamber of Commerce,there are several long articles promoting the advantageof public parks and highlighting the early accomplish-ments of the Metropolitan Park Commission. Themost recent scholarly work discussing the rise of thepark movement in Rhode Island is John S. Gilkeson,Jr.’s, Middle Class Providence, 1820-1940, Princeton:Princeton University Press, 1986, pp. 224-235; 286-293.The best general introduction to this topic is LucindaBrockway’s Historic Landscapes of Rhode Island, RhodeIsland Historical Preservation and HeritageCommission, 2001.

“The Commissioners believe that the universal and mar-

velous growth of the park movement is due primarily, not so much tothe desire to adorn cities or to add to their taxable value, as to the factthat public reservations furnish the only means by which the massesof the people may continue to enjoy the bounties of nature which areindispensable to the mental, moral, and physical well-being of the

race.”

Second Annual Report,

Metropolitan Park Commission, 1906

8

and another at Yosemite and was also the developerand designer of Freeman Parkway near BlackstoneBoulevard; Amasa Eaton, a prominent jurist; and HenryA. Barker, the manager of the Rhode Island ElectricProtective Company and founder of the BarkerPlayhouse. Although listed as assistant Secretary of theCommission, Barker really played the role of executivesecretary to the Commission and was one of its leadingproponents for years. The chair of the Commission’sexecutive committee was also the President of the ParkAssociation and a prominent physician, Dr. Fenner H.Peckham.

The head of steam they generated and theirgrass-roots support was key to the first fund-raisingthat made their ambitions a reality. It took the form ofa state-wide bond issue in 1906; the voters approved$250,000. It was the proceeds from this campaign thatenabled the purchase of the Lincoln Woods acres. Thepurchase of Lincoln Woods was a goal of the ParkAssociation even before the Commission was formed.

Because they were clearly identified with thepublic interest, some early parkland acquisitions cameas gifts to the state after the acquisition of LincolnWoods: Haines Memorial in East Providence andBarrington, Meshanticut Park in Cranston, andNausauket Beach in Warwick. From 1894 to 1904 theMPA spent considerable time in the field inventoryinglocations which had recreational value and were beg-ging to be rescued. When given the authority, and laterthe money, they acted boldly to secure these sites. Totheir good fortune, some of the parcels they soughteagerly had scenic value only. Because of awkward ter-rain or other detracting physical attributes the alternateuses for residential, commercial, or industrial applica-tions were minimal.

Through their public relations initiatives overthe years, the Commissioners arrived in office with aconsiderable cultivation of the opinion leaders of busi-ness, government, church and other civic groups. Theyhad won over many to their point of view that urbanareas needed parks as ventilators and air-holes, thatparks were the ‘lungs of the city.’ Their pamphlets andlectures by scientists and health experts convinced

many that industrial pollution of streams and dumpingareas bred sickness and increased chances for epi-demics. The idea of park areas as a moral alternative tothe saloon rang true for many Rhode Islanders on theside of temperance. They also enjoyed support fromother groups pushing the value of neighborhood play-grounds such as newly-formed YMCAs and churchsports leagues and recreation facilities.

They successfully promoted the idea that thenew park system would favor the urban/industrializedpart of the state in the form of an arc. It started in thenorth at the Ten Mile River on the eastern border withMassachusetts and stretched to Valley Falls on theBlackstone.

The river fingers formed by the Moshassuck,West and Woonasquatucket streams and related millponds were ribs in this fan. Then, the arc went west tothe high vantage point of Neutaconkanut Hill andextended to the metropolitan portions of the PocassetRiver. This region included in the industrialized villagesof Cranston Print Works, Knightsville and Thornton.Further along this southern rim of the arc were thestate institutions at Howard and Sockanosset, and thePawtuxet River which wound east to Narragansett Bay.Within a few years the southern portion of the ring wasexpanded as far as the Warwick shore of Cowesett Bay,Apponaug, Buttonwoods and Oakland Beach. Againthe momentum of this concept was largely attributableto the argument that parks were an effective antidote tothe negative results of industrialization and that thesedestinations were within reasonable distance from theinner city. Focus on this particular area of the state wasfurther justified by the demographic fact that this met-ropolitan region, so described, encompassed some twothirds of the state’s population in 1900. Within this ringwere numerous existing ponds and municipal parks, likeRoger Williams, as well as a significant set-aside ofopen spaces like Swan Point Cemetery and ButlerHospital grounds.

For the first third of its 100 year history, then,the new state park program was centered around thedesign of a ring of parks and reservations surroundingProvidence. This system would be served by a series ofspoke-like parkways and improved highways. Route 146(Louisquisset Pike), Veterans Memorial Parkway in East

Early Additions to the System

9

East Matunuck State Beach

Scarborough State Beach

Providence Journal , July 24, 1938

Goddard Park Clubhouse and Golfers

10

Lincoln Woods Covered Bridge

Burlingame Campground Cabin

Misquamicut State Beach

Scarborough State Beach

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Kelly House Museum, Blackstone River State Park

Colt State Park

Beavertail State Park Naturalist Program

Charlestown Breachway

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Colt State Park

Goddard Memorial State Park Beach, 2006

East Bay Bike Path

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Providence, and Narragansett Parkway in Warwickbecame part of this scenario. The banks of majorstreams would be improved as leafy water parkways,also part of the hub and spoke design. At the outer cir-cumference of this Metropolitan Park system would belarge clusters of parklands, typified by Lincoln Woods,the first of the ‘reservations’ to be put into place. Laterin the century, as beaches became the new fringe, orouter circle, the state roads to the beaches would fea-ture a kind of stepping stone path of public picnicgroves.

By 1915 and 1916, just prior to World War I, inless than a decade from the purchase of LincolnWoods, the state parks were already a success, and thepattern of the Commission was clear. Major parks or‘reservations’ around the rim of the arc were linked tothe center of Providence by parkways, and the banks ofrivers and streams within the arc were the canoe corri-dors. So, by World War I, the Ten Mile, the Seekonk,the Mosshasuck, the West River, the Woonasquatucket,the Pocasset, the Meshanticut, and the Pawtuxet Riverswere all either employed or proposed as stems or ribsfor the internal structure of the Metropolitan ParkCommission. On the Ten Mile, for example, were clus-ters like Slater Park and Hunt’s Mill. Canada Pond,Corliss Park, and Metcalf Field were on or near theWest River at Wanskuck. Dyerville and Marino Flatswere on the Woonasquatucket. Stillhouse Cove andArnold’s Neck were at the mouth of the Pawtuxet, andthe Pawtuxet Reservation stretched all the way toWarwick Avenue.

The pattern of donations of properties contin-ued to parallel the purchases of the Commission.Herbert Calef of Johnston, a prominent realtor, madedonations of Nausauket Beach (1908), Arnold’s Neck(1911), Chepiwanoxet (1911), all in Warwick and soldthe Commission Neutaconkanut Hill in Johnston in1917. Similarly, John M. Dean, a prosperous Providencemerchant, developing land in southwestern Cranston,donated Dean Parkway and Meshanticut Lake and Parkin a series of gifts, beginning in 1910.

Following World War I, with the increasing pop-ularity and use of automobiles, the original focus on theProvidence metropolitan area expanded. Cars put thesouthern Rhode Island beaches within reach. As more

middle class residents began taking summer rental cot-tages from Warwick Neck’s Rocky Point south to PointJudith and along Rhode Island’s Atlantic coast, the ParkCommission began assembling a string of people’sbeaches, too. Up until World War I, a considerable partof that coast immediately abutted South County farms.Shore resorts for wealthy ‘summer people’ cropped upat various locations. When their interest declined, thePark Commissioners acted to save beach front land forthe people, perhaps a notion as old as the King’sCharter that guaranteed citizen access to the mean hightide waterline of the state’s waters. During theDepression, the closest many distressed Rhode Islandfamilies came to having a ‘free lunch,’ was their right toharvest shell fish for chowder. The Commission actedto preserve that right by acquiring beach front land.Other factors pointed to new beach development. Twinforces of continued industrial pollution and hurricanedamage impacted the beaches in the upper Bay. To theexisting portfolio of Edgewood and Nausauket cameScarborough in 1925 with additions in the followingdecade. Sand Hill Cove was added in 1929 and BeachPond Park in 1936. A high point of this period was themagnificent gift of Goddard Memorial Park, whichincluded beach, golfing, and horseback riding facilities.

The largest addition to the park system duringthis period was the purchase of Burlingame StateReservation with its more than 3,000 acres of wood-land and camp grounds. The acquisition process forBurlingame, named for Edward Burlingame, formerchairman of the Board of Commissioners, began in1930 and lasted until 1934. Burlingame was originally awildlife preserve but evolved into a park and camp-ground. Other additions at this time included the gift of36 acres in the Peter Randall Reservation of NorthProvidence (1929), the gift of 200 acres for the DawleyMemorial Park in Richmond (1933), and the gift of 373acres of Diamond Hill in Cumberland (1936).

By the mid 1930s, having reached statewide pro-portions, the Metropolitan Park Commission went outof business. Its demise had nothing to do with thecompletion of its mission, but rather the un-relatedpolitical reshaping of the structure of Rhode Islandstate government. On January 1, 1935, in what hassince been dubbed “The Bloodless Revolution,” the 80boards and commissions responsible to the General

Assembly for the business of state government wereabolished in favor of ‘departments’ of state. The workof the independent Metropolitan Park Commission wasfolded into the new Department of Agriculture andConservation as the Division of Forests, Parks, andParkways. Instead of being run by appointed commis-sioners, beholden to the legislature, the parks became anadministrative department answerable to the Governor.

Although the administrative change in parkmanagement in the ‘Bloodless Revolution of 1935’ hadmore to do with state politics than the philosophy of‘open spaces for the public’ which had characterized thework of the Metropolitan Commission, the transition insome ways did mark a milestone in the agenda in thestate park system. The Commission’s work, indeed, hadbeen focused on the center of state population withinthe ten mile radius of downtown Providence. Thisfocus not only addressed rescuing marginal scenic areasthat were threatened by industrial blight and urbansprawl, but it also served to get city and factory districtdwellers out into fresh air and the countryside. Thus,the agenda centered around simple outdoor pursuits:picnics, team sports, hiking trails and swimming; the ini-tial infrastructure development was fairly easy. Canoeing

along the Ten Mile and the Pawtuxet, particularly nearRhodes, also made the early lists of favorite park pas-times.

Most of the early park-related swimming was infresh water, but this changed in the late 1920s and intothe 1930s. Two external phenomena leading to thegrowth of state parks influenced this direction. Fromthe time of the Civil War until nearly World War II,Narragansett Bay soared in popularity as a people’sresort. While this time period is justly famous for itsGilded Age fame of Newport, and, to a lesser degree,Narragansett Pier, it was also an era that opened thejoys of the Bay to those of modest income as well,thanks to the proliferation of little steamboat compa-nies. As many as two and a half million riders a yearwere carried to upper Bay shore dinner halls and amuse-ment parks. Until highway development in the 1930s,and decades following, the people’s access to salt waterwas largely limited to Narragansett Bay, however.Coastal roads and Atlantic beach development, as a def-inite state policy, were a necessity in order to reach thegoal of opening the southern beaches to all.

Until then, from Riverside to Bullock’s Cove inEast Providence, from Field’s Point to Rocky Point onthe western shore, upper Narragansett Bay was theConey Island of New England. Carousel and ferriswheel rides, dozens of bathing beaches and as manyclambake grounds raised the appetites and fueled thememories of thousands of Rhode Island families.

Less well recognized than the fleets of littlesteamboats that ferried weekend and holiday city excur-sionists to places like Crescent Park is the role played bythe electric trolleys of the Warwick and Sea ViewRailroads. The Warwick Railroad was converted fromsteam to electric cars around 1900. It ran from Auburnin Cranston to Hoxie and then along the Warwick shorecommunities to Rocky Point, swinging west throughOakland Beach to Buttonwoods. The Sea View ranfrom East Greenwich through Wickford, down BostonNeck to Narragansett. It was connected at EastGreenwich by the United Electric Railroad to down-town Providence. On the east side of the Bay, theProvidence, Warren and Bristol Railroad served thesame purpose. Today, this right-of-way forms the basefor most of the East Bay Bike Path. These transporta-tion systems played an enormous role in popularizing all

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Goddard Memorial ParkGoddard Park - a 472 acre estate in the Potowomut section

of Warwick where Cowesett Bay joins Narragansett Bay - was a gift tothe MPC that filled the need for a major waterfront property andplayed into the strategy of taking the park system into the southernpart of the state, following the growing appetite of the public for morebathing areas. The park also offered the chance for a public nine-holegolf course as well as bridle trails.

The Goddard estate history stretches as far back into theearliest days of Warwick. Originally land in the Greene family, it wasconfiscated from Richard Greene, a British sympathizer in theAmerican Revolution. Purchased after the war by John Brown ofProvidence it passed down in the family into the Ives branch. Withthe marriage of Hope Brown Ives to Henry Grinnell Russell of NewBedford, “The Oaks,” as the estate became known, began to developinto a famous landscaped setting. The US Department of Forestrydescribed it at the time as “the finest example of private forestry inAmerica.” The Russells died without children and the estate went to acousin, Colonel Robert Hale Ives Goddard. The Colonel had been anaide to General Ambrose Burnside in the Civil War. He was a seniormanager of the Lonsdale Company of Lincoln and Cumberland,much of whose property now comprises the Blackstone River StatePark and Bike Path. In 1927, Colonel Goddard’s children, Robertand Madeleine, gave the estate to the Metropolitan Park Commissionin memory of their father.

15

of Narragansett Bay and the southern Rhode Islandcoast, making our state park bathing beaches some ofour most magnetizing recreational attractions. Thedevelopments at Goddard, Scarborough, Sand HillCove, and later Matunuck and Misquamicut, played off

of this deeply ingrained affection for salt water bathing.The growing popularity of the salt water beaches andtheir accessibility by means of public transportationshifted the center of recreational gravity away from themetropolitan area towards the shores of South County.

Division of Forests, Parks and Parkways

In the years following the administrative moveaway from the Metropolitan Park Commission, therewere new contexts for the park program. It was setwithin a larger statewide agenda for public land. Whilethe overall commitment to people’s recreation did notchange, each successive administrative move added anew cluster of activities alongside the park program. Inthe sequential redrawing of the departmental bound-aries, to the basic structure of parks and recreation,forests and highway picnic groves were included, andthere was a new emphasis on the conservation of natu-ral resources.

Another element surfaced in the park landscapeafter 1935, however. It was the element of oppor-tunism, the seizing of an unplanned event or circum-stance and its incorporation into the existing program.In the mid 1930s, this involved the extensive use of theparks to celebrate and commemorate the year 1936 asthe 300th anniversary of Rhode Island’s founding, thelanding of Roger Williams. Public pageantry in theform of re-enactments, Indian encampments, peoplewalking around in Pilgrim suits, documentary films andopen air celebrations took place at the larger reserva-tions like Lincoln Woods and Goddard Memorial. Partof this opportunity was the logical adoption of histori-cal commemorations; part of it was just good publicrelations, self-esteem building, and simple diversion ofattention away from the grim realities in thatDepression era. Out of a work force of 400,000, morethan 100,000 people were out of work. It becameanother way to use the parks in the public interest.

The addition of an historical component in theparks division scene began in the late 1920s with theMetropolitan Park Commission. The responsibility forcaring for series of historical sites and monuments was

transferred to the Division. This began in 1929 with theIndian Burial Ground, the General Stanton Monumentand the Stephen Hopkins Monument. It was followedin 1933 by the adoption for management purposes ofthe Rhode Island Historical Society sites of the Queen’sFort, the Jireh Bull Blockhouse site, and the GreatSwamp Fight Site. In 1935 the Oliver Hazard PerryMonument in Newport was added and four years laterDevil’s Foot Rock and the Bell School House inRichmond completed the picture. There was little recre-ation possibility at any of these locations. They repre-sented an expanded sense of custodial duty on the partof the state; decades later they would have more likelybecome the responsibility of the Historical Preservationand Heritage Commission.

Another example of an expanded activity forthe parks was the adoption of the Arbor Day exercisesinvolving school children. Arbor Day was an early ver-sion and fore-runner of the same environmentalimpulse that is reflected in Earth Day presently.Essentially its purpose was to encourage the notion oftree-planting among the young.

Another one of the unforeseen opportunitieswhich came along during the Depression was a spate ofpublic works projects in state parks and forests. Underthe aegis of several Federal agencies young men wereput to work on state lands making new paths, buildingroads, clearing debris, building fire places, picnic shel-ters, and solving erosion problems. Thousands of newtrees were planted. Hurricanes in 1935 and 1938 alsocreated great needs for public work-type enterprise. Theclearance of storm damage to the public lands wasextensive. Among the programs coming out of theNew Deal to stimulate the economy of the 1930s, theone best suited to public parks needs was the Civilian

1935-1952

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Conservation Corps (CCC) which functioned from1935 to 1942. Ultimately there were five CCC camps inRhode Island. Organized along military-style lines therewere some 900 young men who were processed intothe outdoor life of public land management.

One of the larger CCC camps was inBurlingame State Reservation. The upshot of the extraman-power during this era was that Rhode Island’sparks received a tremendous infrastructure boost.Living in tents and barracks, the young men not onlyhad a paying job, but also enjoyed the side benefits totheir personal health and education. By 1942, thedemands for filling military ranks and the needs ofwartime industry reduced the Rhode Island unemploy-ment rolls to nearly nil and the CCC camps wereclosed.

By 1940 the pattern of the parks responding tounanticipated opportunities was well established. Whenthe Park Commission went over to being a departmentin 1935 and the division expanded to include stateforests, there were only two such preserves, GeorgeWashington Memorial in Glocester and Wickaboxet inWest Greenwich.

During the war, lands originally leased by theUnited States government for public worksprojects–Arcadia in Exeter, West Greenwich,Hopkinton and Richmond; Bowdish in Burrillville andGlocester; Carolina in Richmond; and Woody Hill inWesterly - became part of the state forestry program.Following the end of World War II, other Federal prop-erty no longer needed for the war was transferred tothe state for park use, and in the 1970s, when the Navypresence in Rhode Island was drastically changed forsupporting fleets and ammunition storage, the surplusland around the rim of the Bay and on many of theislands was eagerly taken by the state and to form thenucleus of the concept for a Bay islands park system.

In fact, without the transfer of surplus Federalland to park uses, there would have been no majoradditions to the park system from the late 1930s to themid 1950s. The gap in parkland acquisition began in1935 with Beach Pond and Scarborough and lasteduntil 1954 with the purchase of Galilee (later SaltyBrine State Beach), followed shortly by East Matunuck

State Beach (1956) and Misquamicut State Beach(1958).

In an effort to bring some order out of the dis-persed small public lands, the state planning board rec-ommended getting rid of scattered, small, inefficientparcels which required frequent maintenance. Such de-accessioning was recommended for Arnold’s Neck,Chepiwanoxet, Canada Pond, Corliss and MetcalfFields, West River, Dyerville, Neutaconkanut Hill,Mashapaug Pond, Pawtuxet River Reservation, Troop CPark, Meshanticut Park, Merino Park, Ten Mile Riverand Seekonk Reservation. No action was taken by theGeneral Assembly, and the recommendations stood foryears. Representatives were reluctant to close services tothe voters of their districts. Over decades, however,many of these sites were transferred to the municipali-ties where they were located. Diamond Hill, forinstance, eventually became a park for Cumberland.Turning World War II Park over to Woonsocket ispresently at issue today.

Ashaway Grove, HopkintonBarber Pond Grove, South Kingstown

Beaver River Grove, RichmondBassoqutogaug Grove, Exeter

Blackstone Grove, CumberlandBrenton’s Grove, NarragansettBulgarmarsh Grove, TivertonEsek Hopkins Grove, Scituate

Exeter Grove, ExeterGrand Pre Grove, Charlestown

Hannah Robinson Grove, South KingstownJerimoth Hill Grove, Foster

Lehigh Hill Park, PortsmouthMatantuck Grove, North Kingstown

Miantonomi Grove, RichmondMixano Grove, Richmond

Pine Grove. North KingstownPonagansett Grove, ScituatePost Road Grove, Westerly

Quanatumpic Grove, ExeterRed Brook Grove, Westerly

Richard Smith Grove, North KingstownRocky Hill Grove, East Greenwich

Shady Lea Grove, North KingstownStony Brook Grove, North Kingstown

Tiverton Beach, TivertonWaites Corner Grove, South Kingstown

Warwick Downs Grove, WarwickWashington Grove, Smithfield

Picnic Groves in the 1950s

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Department of Public Works

When the Parks and Recreation Divisionbecame part of the Department of Public Works in1952, it left Forestry behind. In its association with theHighway Division, however, its long-standing task ofmaintaining scenic parkways found new support. Inexchange, Parks and Recreation found itself maintain-ing the roadside picnic groves that had sprouted up toserve Rhode Island motorists on their way to the beach.Before the advent of popular back yard swimmingpools and outdoor barbecue grills, the beaches and thestate parks were the destination of choice for thou-sands of residents of modest means.

As private automobiles began to compete withpublic transit as the mode of choice, stopping at a pic-nic grove on the way to the beach became part of therecreation pilgrimage. Before the arrival of the inter-states and limited access highways, the trek to the beachwas more time consuming, and the attraction of a roadside picnic was as much a necessity as it was a featureof the fun. A handful of the groves still exist.

The mid 1950s, under the Department ofPublic Works, saw a prioritization to the major parksand reservations: Arcadia, Beach Pond, Burlingame,Casimir Pulaski, Dawley Memorial, Diamond Hill, FortGreene (picked up as a transfer from the Federal gov-ernment, and later renamed, Fishermen’s Memorial),Haines Memorial, Lincoln Woods and Merino StatePark. Such attention bore results in five years ofincreased public attendance. It was during these yearsthat the first mentions of the role of park police appearin the annual reports.

The 1957 annual report of the Department ofPublic Works is a useful index to the park program ofthe 1950s. Among the forward-looking projects firstdiscussed were Fort Adams in Newport, Fort Burnsidein Jamestown, East Matunuck Beach in SouthKingstown, Second Beach in Middletown, Misquamicutin Westerly, Charlestown Breachway in Charlestown,and Warwick Downs in Pawtuxet. In 1960, the possibili-ty of the World War II Memorial in Woonsocket wasbroached.

1952-1965

Few reorganizations of state governmentreflected the signs of the times as well as the creationof the Department of Natural Resources in 1965. Adecade earlier, Rhode Island suffered a long twilight ofde-industrialization as one textile company after anothereither closed or moved southward to be near to the cot-ton fields and free of the trade union movement.

While Federal efforts, like the CCC, had bol-stered the job scene in Rhode Island up to the outbreakof World War II, out of the more than 100,000Depression era unemployed, only about 60,000 peoplefound work on the government payroll, leaving 40,000,or ten percent of the workforce on the welfare lines. By1941, as anticipated wartime production picked upthere were 21 companies in Rhode Island with a thou-

The fact that there were no major acquisitionsfor nearly 20 years is no indication that these decadeswere ones of status quo. The nature of outdoor recre-ational infrastructure - paths, trails, picnic benches, fire-places, beaches, bathhouses, shelters and woodland -requires constant attention, repair and replacement.While new sites were not added, programs were.Recreation became year-round. Beginning with CCC

improvements to Diamond Hill, skiing and sleddingbecame part of the recreation repertoire; at other loca-tions ice skating and ice fishing were introduced. At theconclusion of its stay in the Department of Agriculture,the Division offered bathing at 10 locations, camping attwo, golfing at Goddard, and horseback riding atGoddard and Lincoln Woods.

Department of Natural Resources1965-1975

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sand or more workers, and another 47 firms employedfive hundred or more. Forty years later, in 1981, onlytwo of the big manufacturers would be left (Brown andSharpe and Gorham), and only seven of the 49 medi-um-sized manufacturers would still be in the state, andthat as mere subdivisions of national corporations. Thejewelry industry of small shops employing 30,000 work-ers would shrink to about 5,000 workers. World War II,however, temporarily bucked this long-term trend.

During the War, Rhode Island, almost morethan any other state, turned virtually all its efforts to themilitary crisis. Over 100,000 Rhode Islanders served inuniform. Quonset Point was transformed from a littlenational guard camp to a sprawling port, air field, stag-ing and military manufacturing center, the largest suchfacility on the Atlantic coast. Nearby in Davisville, theall-purpose prefabricated building, the Quonset Hut,was turned out by the thousands. In Providence, theWalsh Kaiser Shipyard built nearly five dozen LibertyShips and Combat Loaded Cargo ships in record time.Bristol produced PT boats. Goat Island hosted a torpe-do factory. Charlestown Naval Air Station dispatchedairplanes to hunt submarines. Woonsocket’s U.S. RubberCompany turned out lifeboats and created an entirephantom inflatable fleet of jeeps, guns and tanks to bescattered on the meadows of England to fool the Nazisas to the Allies’ intended invasion plans. Machine shopsthroughout the Blackstone Valley made parts for a 20millimeter anti-aircraft cannon that was tested at a firingrange at Diamond Hill. A dozen of the smaller islandsin Narragansett Bay stored munitions and extensive for-tifications bristled at the mouth of the Bay to ward offattacks. It was one of the few times since the heydaysof industrialization just prior to the development of theMetropolitan Park System that Rhode Island had suchhigh employment.

But then, as in a twinkling of an eye, when thewar was over, the jobs were gone. To make mattersworse, loss of the basic textile industry which hadbegun to trickle off to the South in the 1920s and1930s increased to a steady flow from 1947 to 195l. Asthe state cast around to replace lost jobs, one of thepossibilities surfaced in the form of building oil refiner-ies in Narragansett Bay.

First in Tiverton and later on Jamestown, ahuge struggle emerged over the future direction of theBay - oil refineries vs. recreation. It was the issue whichproduced Save the Bay. Coupled with the new environ-mental movement largely inspired by Rachel Carson’sbook, Silent Spring, and the new land-use planning con-cepts like cluster zoning, it was the age of ‘Green AcresPrograms.’ John Chafee was Governor of RhodeIsland.

The new department of Natural Resources wascomprised of the Division of Agriculture, the Divisionof Conservation (Forests, Fish and Game), the Divisionof Enforcement, the Division of Harbors and Rivers,the State Pilotage Commission, the Division ofPlanning and Development and the Division of Parksand Recreation. By this time, Parks and Recreationsupervised 80 areas and 9,000 acres.

Among the highlights of this moment was theopening of Colt State Park. The huge Bristol estate hadbeen recommended as a state park as early as 1935, butwas tied up for years in a family trust of the Colt fami-ly. Prior to the establishment of a Division of Planningand Development within the department, park plansoriginated in Statewide Planning. The inclusion of aplanning element in Natural Resources accelerated theprocess of new parks. One such acquisition in 1969 wasSnake Den State Park with its Dame Farm in Johnston.With nearly 750 acres of woodland and open fields, theDame Farm continued to be operated by members ofthe Dame family as a living history farm. Within thepark is another former farm house on Hartford Avenueserving as the headquarters for the Parks andRecreation Division.

New park planning and the reshuffling of thedeck of existing facilities was part of a larger processthat was going on in Rhode Island in the 1960s. Theclosing of urban factories, particularly in the industrialneighborhoods of Providence, the housing blight ofaging triple deckers, and experiments in public housingled to an out-migration from the city to surroundingsuburban towns like Cranston and Warwick. During theyears from 1950 to 1970 Providence lost about 90,000residents to the suburbs, the largest percentage loss ofany city in the country.

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The introduction of limited access super high-ways accelerated the move in two ways. Old neighbor-hoods were demolished to make way for the roads; theroads made it easier to live outside of the city but stillget back conveniently for office jobs, entertainment,and retail shopping. As to the latter, it was only a matterof time until the retail center of gravity, once focusedalong Weybosset and Westminster Streets, followed peo-ple to the suburbs, shifting several miles south to themalls at the junction of Routes 95 and 295. All of thesetrends were incorporated into new plans to expand thepark system south of Providence and out into thecountryside now more accessible from the circumferen-tial loops like Routes 116, 295 and 102.

Highway upgrades of Routes 1, 2 and 4 alsofacilitated these changes. The towns of Narragansett,South Kingstown and Charlestown were among thosewith the highest percentages of population increase.These changes also took into consideration that one ofthe original purposes of the parks, to provide picnicsites in leafy surroundings was largely replaced in thou-sands of suburban households by the backyard barbe-cued and pools.

Another shift of major proportions to theRhode Island economy and demographics came in1973when the Federal government pulled the destroyer fleet,supporting elements and military families out ofNewport and Quonset. Rhode Island faced the cata-strophic loss of 18,000 jobs – both civilian and military– and about a billion dollar impact on the local econo-my. While the idea of oil refineries on the Bay was notrevived, there was a scurry of other ideas to shore upthe economy. Enhancing the Port of Providence byconnecting it directly to the hinterland of Hartford by

way of Interstate 84 was one idea entertained for awhile; a nuclear power plant was also discussed.

In the end, the loss of the fleet was balanced bythe substantial expansion of the Naval War College andrelated training programs. Parts of Quonset became ajumping off point for off-shore oil exploration and thebuilding of hulls for atomic-powered submarines atElectric Boat. The real change, however, which hadoccurred during the years of the Department ofNatural Resources were the new ideas about protectingthe environment, the pro-active stances against thefuture pollution of the Upper Bay from the dischargesof the jewelry industry, and a whole new appreciationfor ‘green’ ideas, not an easy transition for a largelyblue-collar state with high unemployment.

Part of the reason for the change in attitude wasa growing appreciation for the natural assets of thestate, cultivated by the opening of new sites like ColtState Park and Brenton Point on Ocean Drive inNewport. As the enlisted men and their families leftNewport, some of their place in the economy wastaken up by concert-goers at Fort Adams for the Jazzand Folk festivals. The American RevolutionBicentennial, America’s Cup Races and Tall ShipsFestivals gave momentum to the hospitality and tourismindustries. Another impact was the surprising growth ofthe historic attractions, like the Mansions of BellevueAvenue. In the summer of 1949, there was only onetour bus from New York City. By the 1980s there were2,000 buses to Newport. Scenic values for RhodeIslanders became a matter of civic priority as they con-sistently and regularly approved open space and recre-ational bond referendums, ranking right up there withhighways as popular expressions of the public will.

Department of Environmental Management1977-Present

In 1977, the General Assembly created theDepartment of Environmental Management (DEM)with a broader mission to protect air and water qualityas well as the state’s natural resources. The DNR and itsdivisions became the Bureau of Natural Resourceswithin the new agency.

Annual reports for Parks and Recreation of thelast quarter of the 20th century might suggest that pub-lic land acquisition and park expansion occurred largelyby chance, depending on corporations closing industrialsites or the Navy’s decision to leave unneeded coastaldefense stations. A closer reading, however, suggests

that while the decisions to make land available mayhave been made elsewhere, when the opportunityavailed itself, Rhode Island had a plan to take advantageof such unforeseen opportunities.

As stated earlier, during World War II, the lowercoast line and entrances to Narragansett Bay were forti-fied. Actually, a more accurate statement would be thatexisting fortifications were improved, expanded, andupdated. With the exception of Fort Adams, most ofRhode Island’s World War II defenses actually originat-ed during the Spanish American War, some fourdecades earlier. The designs for these defenses began inthe 1880s under the leadership of Secretary of War,William C. Endicott, whose name was applied to thesystem which included Forts Wetherill, Getty, Greble,Kearny and later, Forts Benjamin Church andNathanael Greene. These installations, at the farextremes of the approaches to Narragansett Bay wereable to fire at approaching ships 26 miles away. A FireControl station on Beavertail governed their operation.Then, between the extremes was Fort Burnside onBeavertail, Fort Varnum, off Boston Neck Road, andBrenton Point on Ocean Drive.

Exactly what made these sites valuable inwartime made them also of importance in the peacethat followed: their commanding view of the water.When they were deemed surplus after the war, andoffered to the state, their scenic value and military her-itage made them attractive for park development. FortGreene at Point Judith, Forts Burnside and Wetherill onJamestown and Brenton Point in Newport offer someof the most spectacular water views and have becomepart of the public’s front yard.

The same idea of regional park developmentoperated within the Bay as well. As island munitionsstorage facilities aged in the 1970s and 1980s, the need

for coastal defenses dating back to the SpanishAmerican War lost their usefulness. A study, launchedby the DNR in 1974, looked into the feasibility of a‘Bay Island Park System’ that included NorthernJamestown, Fort Wetherill, Beavertail, Plum BeachLight, Fox Island, Gould Island, Rose Island, the northand south end of Prudence Island, as well as the islandsof Patience, Hope, Hog, and Dyer. The study alsoexplored potential ferry-connections at Goddard,Haines and Colt State Parks as well as Federal surplusland at Allens Harbor, Quonset and Middletown.

In 1977, the Coastal Resource Center at theUniversity of Rhode Island published a report, The BayIslands Park: A Marine Plan for the State of Rhode Island.Through incremental development, many of the vari-ous study reports recommendations have been adopted.This ‘gradualist’ strategy has moved the dial from sim-ply holding the land for future development to develop-ment and some use by the public. The chief hold backhas been the absence of a public ferry system. Up tonow, access to most sites has been limited to privateboat owners. However, the prospect of an inter-islandpark system remains strong in the minds of boaters,naturalists, and fishermen.

A more successful execution of plans andimplementation has occurred in the network of bikepaths. In 1985, anticipating by a year a nation-wide ideaof using former railroad rights of way for bikes, thistechnique was employed in the East Providence portionof the former Providence, Warren and Bristol rail line.The 14.5 mile East Bay Bike Path opened in 1995. Itssuccess was quickly apparent.

Hardly was the striping dry when a similar pathwas proposed along the banks of the Blackstone River,which in 2009 extends 42 miles to Worcester and will soonconnect the East Bay Bike Path at India Point Park.Another path extends from Wakefield to the NarragansetPier. And a path is under construction along a tresle trail ofthe Pawtuxet Valley Railroad from the former Brewery sitein Cranston to West Warwick and Coventry. What began inthe 1980s as several unconnected bike paths, is becomingan integrated system of connecting natural greenways, bikepaths and trails radiating out from urban areas into the sub-urbs, echoing the Metropolitan Park Commission’s idea ofthe radiating parkways.

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“Our design and maintenance goal for the Rhode IslandState Parks was always to create for the general public the same scenicwoodlands and water vistas that were enjoyed by those who werewealthy enough to afford memberships in private clubs at the beachor in the country.”

Robert Bendict, DEM Director, 1985 – 1991

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An interesting collaboration of two state agen-cies, the bike paths are built by inter-modal FederalHighway money through the Department ofTransportation and operated and maintained by theDEM. The Lincoln portion of the Blackstone Bikewayrepresents the intermodal concept in a variety of ways.From Lonsdale to Ashton it follows the historicBlackstone Canal, the first critical transportation linkenabling mills to thrive along a river that was not navi-gable due to some 35 dams and waterfalls. A parkranger station in Ashton is the former homestead ofCaptain Wilbur Kelly, commander of the China Tradeship, Ann and Hope. The trail has scenic vistas and lushplant life. The river is stocked with game fish and hasrejuvenated itself from less than half a dozen species tonearly two dozen. Current plans call for the installationof fish ladders at the four lower dams, allowing anadro-mous species to return to the Valley Falls and Lonsdalemarshes. An additional access point was added in 2007when a highway full-service visitor center on Route 295opened.

By the late 1980s, the range of public program-ming at the parks grew to include naturalist programs,historic tours, festivals, farmers’ markets and a multitudeof special events. Beach bussing for low-income fami-lies and improvements to nearly all state parks in 1978and 1979 also reflect a return to the ambitions of theMetropolitan Park Commission to make state facilitiesboth available and attractive for those without themeans to own their own boat on our rivers and streams,or have a slip at a marina on Narragansett Bay.

Hurricanes and other disasters, like oil spills, notwithstanding, repairs and maintenance of sites contin-ued as the parks became a key portion of RhodeIsland’s tourism industry, the number two employer inthe state. Major improvements included: new beachpavilions and parking lots at Scarborough, Misquamicut,Roger Wheeler and East Matunuck; new equestrianfacilities at Goddard and Lincoln Woods; upgrades andimprovements at Burlingame, Goddard, Lincoln Woods,World War II, Fort Wetherill, Fort Adams and Pulaski;and, construction and enhancements of numerous boatramps and fishing piers throughout the state.

Attendance at parks and beaches grew from twomillion visits in the 1990s to over seven million in 2002.One symbol as to how far Rhode Islanders have comein underscoring the public will for preserving openspace and setting high environmental standards was thecreation in 2001 of the John H. Chafee Nature Preserveat Rome Point, a site once slated for a nuclear powerinstallation.

In the 100 years since Lincoln Woods becamethe first state park, Rhode Island State Parks haveevolved from a visionary plan to a statewide network ofhistoric and magnificent greenspaces and greenwaysdevoted to the public enjoyment of the outdoors.Today, in 2009, the park system and natural resourceareas comprise over 123 sites and 60,000 acres. Majorchallenges include severe budget reductions and persist-ent staffing shortages, along with a generation of chil-dren who are spending more time indoors watching tel-evision, playing video games and surfing the internetand are disconnected from nature.

Despite these challenges, the Division of Parksand Recreation, with the support of citizens and part-ners, continues to maintain and improve the quality ofparks. Major renovations underway at Salty Brine StateBeach in Narragansett include sustainable, energy effi-cient features such as a small wind turbine to generatepower and solar hot water heaters. The Division alsobegan the Great Outdoors Pursuit to re-unite childrenand their families with the great outdoors with the hopeof building the next generation of environmental stew-ards who will champion our state parks and foreststhrough the next 100 years.

100 Year Anniversary

Time CapsuleOn July 23, 2009, a time capsule was buried at Goddard

Memorial State Park in celebration of the 100 Year Anniversary ofRhode Island State Parks. It was buried in honor of past, present andfuture State Park employees who have been or will be entrusted withthese precious natural resources.

The capsule is slated to be opened in celebration of the200th Year Anniversary of Rhode Island State Parks in 2109.

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While the century chronicle of any institutional enterprise rarelyreturns to its origins upon its hundredth year anniversary it is curious howit’s possible to view the public park movement in a cyclical fashion. A cen-tury ago one of the motivations for a parkway system of scenic vistas wasthe popular pastime of bicycle riding. Today, one of the key elements inthe continued enthusiasm for our state parks is the bikeway. Recreationalexercise as a part of general community health is as strong a public policyas ever. A century ago, the idea was to get industrial workers and theirfamilies out of congested, unhealthful conditions into fresh air, sunshine,and restful, natural settings. The bikeways of today offer the similar incen-tives; they parallel several of the original parkways. Public beaches scat-tered along a 400 mile shoreline, once marveled at by Giovanni deVerrazzano, add to the allure.

Interestingly, when the Metropolitan Park Commission issued itsoriginal reports and proposals they were replete with warnings and alarmsfor the need for public action to rescue sites endangered by sprawl, pollu-tion and short-sighted development. With the passage of time, some oftheir favorite areas which their reports wrote off as irredeemable havestaged a spectacular comeback. The very public policy fight that broughtthe Commission into existence was losing the argument for a ‘water place’park at the old cove and train station. A century later it has happened.They lamented the loss forever of the Lonsdale marshes; the same marsh-es are now intersected by the Blackstone Bikeway. The East Providenceshore likewise was lost to them. All of these places are back, in some casesbetter than ever.

Epilogue

A Century Cycle

Rhode Island State Parks - 2009

Map KeyDate acquired or opened in parentheses

1 Beavertail State Park (1980)2 Blackstone River State Park (2006) and

Bikeway (1998)3 Brenton Point State Park (1969)4 Burlingame Picnic Grove (1934)5 Burlingame State Campground (1934)6 Charlestown Breachway &

Campground (1952)7 Colt State Park (1965)8 East Bay Bike Path (1987)9 East Beach State Park (1967)10 East Matunuck State Beach (1956)11 Fishermen’s State Park Campground (1953)12 Fort Adams State Park (1978)13 Fort Wetherill State Park (1972)14 George Washington Campground (1968)15 Goddard Memorial State Park (1927)16 Haines Memorial State Park (1911)17 John H. Chafee Nature Preserve (2001)18 Lincoln Woods State Park (1909)19 Meshanticut State Park (1910)20 Misquamicut State Beach (1958)21 Pulaski Memorial Recreation Area (1939)22 Roger Wheeler State Beach (1929)23 Salty Brine State Beach (1954)24 Scarborough State Beach (1937)25 Snake Den State Park (1969)26 Ten Mile River Reservation (1910)27 World War II Memorial State Park (1960)

For more information aboutRhode Island State Parks, visit

www.riparks.com or call (401) 222-2632

Rhode IslandDepartment of Environmental Management

Division of Parks and Recreation2321 Hartford Avenue, Johnston, RI 02919

(401) 222-2632WWW.RIPARKS.COM