Book Notices

The Mountainous West: Explorations in Historical Geography.

Edited by WILLIAM WYCKOFF and LARY M. DILSAVER. (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1995. x + 420 pp. Paper, $25.00.)

When I first saw the title of this volume I thought it must refer to the Rocky Mountain West or possibly the Intermountain West between the Rockies and the Sierra Nevada/ Cascades To my surprise, the editors define their "Mountainous West" as "a distinctive American subregion" that embraces all of the mountain ranges within the eleven western states (They make a valid case for their decision to exclude Canada and Mexico but do not even mention mountainous Alaska and Hawaii.) They maintain that "both the physical and human geographies of these mountain zones have conspired to create a very different West than that encountered in the coastal lowlands, desert valleys, and arid plains below" (p. 1).

In the eyes of the editors these seemingly disparate mountain zones have five common features that justify treating them as a single region in spite of their physical separation Wyckoff and Dilsaver describe these five characteristics in detail in a long introductory chapter They then group the remaining thirteen essays under one of these five themes or under a final section added to consider "The MountainValley Interface." Three of the sections rate only one article while each of the others has three or four, making the overall balance of the book somewhat uneven. All of the essays' fifteen authors, except for historian Duane A Smith, are professional geographers with a strong historical bent.

The first two themes treat the mountains as physical barriers to human interaction and as forested islands of moisture. The second, and probably most provocative one of all, challenges the common notion that aridity defines the American West Its author, Thomas R Vale, makes a persuasive case—by means of maps—for viewing "the quintessence of the West" as "a juxtaposition of dry lowland and moist mountain" (p. 141).

The third section considers the highland as storehouses of concentrated (but contested) resources—minerals, furs, forests, and forage—while the fourth focuses on the mountains as an area of government control. As the primary land owner of the region (90 percent), the U.S. government has become an embattled manager of public versus private disputes The fifth theme looks at the uplands as a restorative sanctuary for the increasing numbers of people seeking relief from the more crowded lowlands.

The sixth and final section acknowledges the complex interdependence of mountains and valleys and features four case studies Many readers of Utah Historical Quarterly may find the last two essays of particular interest The one on "Colorado's San Luis Valley" is informative, but two of the authors' claims seem suspect to a native Utahn First, they liken the rural landscape of the Sanford-Manassa area, long settled by Latter-day Saints, to the suburbanizedJordan Valley of Utah. Then they assert that the LDS church originally planned to build its Colorado temple in little Manassa rather than along the Front Range where most of the state's Mormons now live.

The final essay, by Jeanne Kay, applies the volume's five themes to "Mormons and Mountains" in Utah— where the Rockies, Great Basin, and Colorado Plateau converge She adds an extra dimension by viewing them through the eyes of Juanita Brooks, local historian of "Utah's Dixie" (tied to St George) Kay concludes by exploring too briefly the meaning of mountains to Mormons as Zion, home, and metaphor.

I view all of these "Explorations in Historical Geography" as valuable contributions to the burgeoning literature of the American West Some impress me more than others, but that probably reflects my own regional and topical interests more than significant differences in the quality of the writing.

The Mountainous West represents a splendid sample of the research that historical geographers have engaged in since D. W. Meinig wrote his seminal essay on the "American Wests" in 1972. The editors have done a superb job of integrating the six sections with short introductions and of insisting that the authors adhere to the book's five organizing themes.

For two reasons I have decided to adopt the volume as a text in my "Amer/Can" West class to complement historian Richard White's It's Your Misfortune and None ofMy Own." First, it adds to the historian's approach the distinctive spatial, regional, and landscape perspectives of geographers Second, I consider most of The Mountainous Wesfs maps—even though drawn at a smaller scale—superior to those in White's history (taken from the Historical Atlas of the American West, which was published by the same press as his text).

Recent issues of the Western Historical Quarterly have featured articles that attempt to delineate the American West. Major disagreements among the authors underscore the need to foster closer collaboration between historians and historical geographers I can envision two promising outcomes of such cooperation: (1) better atlases of the American West and its regions or states (produced jointly by the University of Oklahoma and Nebraska presses?); and (2) new histories that treat the mountainous and arid Wests as sets of dynamic regions—each with its distinctive cultures and economies and each tied in different ways to one another and to the controlling eastern United States and world economy.

LOWELL C "BEN" BENNION Humboldt Sate University Areata, California

Race and Labor in Western Copper: The Fight for Equality, 1896-1918.

By PHILIP J. MELLINGER (Tucson: University of Arizona Press, 1995 xiv + 269 pp $40.00.)

Issues of race, ethnicity, and labor continue to intrigue historians of the western mining experience. Launching from the interpretations of earlier writers, contemporary historians fight to ferret out the meanings of race and ethnicity in the western metal mining arena Philip J Mellinger enters the fray with a solid study of race and labor in specific western and southwestern copper areas during the critical years of 1896 to 1918.

In the introduction Mellinger states succinctly, "This book is a history of sig- nificant social change among a region of working people." Here, the regional emphasis included key copper mining areas in the states of New Mexico, Arizona, Nevada, and Utah This regional approach proves an effective framework in which to weave together complete strands of labor activism and experience gained by ethnic and immigrant groups who formed an incredibly fluid labor force during the period Within this construct Mellinger argues that western mining-camp labor history is basically working-class history, rather than ethnic history, and that no two mining areas were quite alike or typical.

For the author the Western Federation of Miners formed the basic cohesive force in welding together malleable, ethnically diverse workers In this regard he maintains that in the early twentieth century "racism and ethnic intolerance were declining in many parts of the mining West. ... A measure of egalitarianism was beginning among working people, at least in the Southwest, Utah, and Nevada, during 1896-1918." He emphasizes the concept of "inclusion," defined as onthe-job change that led to ethnic-racial cooperation and cooperative labor action.

Utah's Bingham Canyon fit well into Mellinger's analysis which also included Clifton-Morenci (Arizona); Bisbee,Jerome, and Globe (Arizona); White Pine County (Nevada); and El Paso (Texas) and Ray (Arizona) Key strike and union organizational periods are discussed and analyzed in order to illustrate a main point of the author—that the "copper companies helped create the racial definitions used throughout the mining West, and in the process, helped unify the copper workers."

For this reviewer the discussion on Bingham Canyon and the strike of 1912 is of particular interest, especially in light of other works on the subject. Mellinger begins by acknowledging that "ethnic unionization was not gradual, happy, or comfortable at Bingham" and that while each mining district contained a unique mix of ethnic groups, "there was a distinct similarity of response to unionism, ethnic problems, and mining-corporation ethnic policies across the entire Southwest and lower intermountain West." Again, Mellinger rightly places Bingham in a larger, more complete regional context.

The role of ethnic miners, especially the Greeks, receives much attention in this work and in that of Gunther Peck, "Padrones and Protest: 'Old' Radicals and 'New' Immigrants in Bingham, Utah, 1905-1912," Western Historical Quarterly 24 (May 1993): 157-78. Mellinger points out specific differences in interpretation between his work and Peck's Interestingly, both authors received inspiration and assistance from the principal writer on the subject, Helen Z Papanikolas Mellinger's main point relevant to the Greeks in 1912 Bingham centers on their "lack of cohesive group social structure." On the other hand, Peck views the Greeks as consciously radical workingmen who demonstrated a seriousness in unionization Here again, Mellinger and Peck differ Mellinger rightly labels the Greeks as the least organized, while Peck views them as the most organized Perhaps "ethnic" motivations hold the key The only ascertainable "ethnic value" that both authors discussed is the hatred for Greek padrone Leonidas Skliris.

In any event, Mellinger senses that the union (WFM) played a key role in recognizing ethnicity and organizing immigrants and Anglo-Irish miners. Peck sees the union as racist for having excluded Japanese workers For Mellinger a key point here is that the immigrants were both the main participants in the 1912 strike as well as part of the leadership In this context, the immigrants had demonstrated their potential for achieving power. The Bingham strike needed union support and this assisted in the move toward "ethnic cohesion and unionization."

Philip Mellinger uses a wide variety of solid primary and secondary sources to illustrate his interpretation Ironically, he cites Gunther Peck's works as documenting some of his own points The endnotes are concise and include some comprehensive discussions on their works and differing perspectives. They should be read thoroughly In utilizing a regional perspective, the author demonstrates an ability to recognize cultural differences between and within various groups, such as the Mexican-Americans and "native-born Spanish Americans." Certainly, the Greeks and Italians in Bingham Canyon also illustrate differences.

From the outset the author maintains that the book is about individuals and not groups He criticizes other studies for looking at mining workers as "collective entities" that "tell us little about individual workingmen"; yet, his own emphasis squares heavily upon group-oriented activity In stressing the "individual" Mellinger often ignores specific cultural behavior, labeled as generally "irrelevant" to the outcomes of the workingman's struggles.

In the main, however, Race and Labor in Western Copper should be read by serious students and those interested in western labor history. The work paints a broader picture of western labor, including the roles of Spanish-speaking miners, and continues the debate on the role of race, ethnicity, and labor in western history.

PHILIP F NOTARIANNI Utah State Historical Society

A Conspiracy of Optimism: Management of the National Forests since World War Two.

By PAUL W. HIRT. (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1994). lvi + 416 pp. $40.00.)

In this intriguing book, Paul W. Hirt, an assistant professor of history at Washington State University, surveys national forest management from 1945 to 1992. He shows that Congress has allocated far more money to the Forest Service for timber harvests and recreational development than for wildlife management or soil and water conservation.

This work supplements more comprehensive treatments of the Forest Service such as Harold Steen's The U.S. Forest Service: A History. Hirt's most important contribution is his focus upon Forest Service budgets and the complex political and social forces that have shaped them.

The author draws upon a rich array of sources including oral histories; investigative journalism; Forest Service publications; Congressional hearings; and the archives of the Wilderness Society, the Forest Service, and organizations representing the timber industry.

Hirt warns that his work "is not meant to be . . .disinterested." He documents the environmental casualties and economic costs of timber harvesting. But he does not balance his account with a full discussion of the economic benefits of timber harvesting or the economic dislocation that arises when the Forest Service reduces harvest quotas.

Hirt contends that most administrators in the Forest Service through the 1970s believed that the national forests could sustain greater timber harvests if the service intelligently applied technology and capital in managing the forests. Politicians and timber industry representatives capitalized upon these convictions to increase timber production. Hirt calls this faith in technological fixes and minimization of risks a "conspiracy of optimism."

Conspiracy usually refers to clandestine plotting, but when we say that circumstances conspired to produce a certain result, we refer to a more impersonal, almost natural, intersection of forces. Hirt uses the term in both ways with varying degrees of success.

Hirt convincingly shows that many politicians, Forest Service administrators, and industrial leaders praised the abundance and commercial potential of the national forests He convincingly argues that this general faith in technological fixes and "collective if tacit agreement not to question the wisdom of maximization" (p xlix) conspired to produce high timber harvests In the case of most Forest Service employees, "this was not a conscious, manipulative conspiracy" (p xxxii).

Hirt alleges that some politicians, timber industry representatives, and Forest Service employees were more duplicitous, deliberate conspirators. Some viewed rhetoric about sustained yield merely as a "a useful ethical facade over short-term economic objectives" (p xlix) and possessed "only token regard" for the environment (p. xxxvi). Budgetary negotiations were conducted in a "shadowy corner" which remained inaccessible "partly by design" (p. xxxv). The Forest Service "exaggerated" some figures and "underestimated" others to rationalize increased timber harvests, and some of this miscalculation was apparently "deliberate and hidden" (p. xli). Hirt presents scant evidence to support these allegations of deliberate misrepresentation. Certainly the evidence does not demonstrate a well-organized conspiracy of government and industry. His evidence does show that as pessimism regarding the sustainability of high timber harvests increased within the Forest Service and in Congress in the 1980s, politicians representing timber-producing regions stepped up political pressure to obtain favorable timber quotas.

BRIAN Q CANNON Brigham Young University

Linoleum, Better Babies, and the Modern Farm Woman, 1890-1930.

By MARILYN IRVIN HOLT (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 1995 viii + 250 pp $34.95.)

Marilyn Irvin Holt has taken as her subject "the domestic economy movement" and its attempt to reach out to rural women in the tier of states ranging from the Dakotas to Texas She deals with the efforts of various agencies—the home extension bureaus of the agricultural colleges, the agricultural press, the Children's Bureau, high schools—to encourage improvements in farm living through a sort of women's counterpart to the scientific agriculture movement From the early canning clubs that taught women the latest methods, the movement branched out to touch almost every aspect of farm wives' existence, bringing them the advice of experts on subjects ranging from poultry raising to home construction. Many women, Holt argues, responded to this "self-help" movement. Even though "a woman might not have indoor plumbing or electricity . . .she found that she could do things to modernize her home, ensure better health and nutrition for her family, and beautify her home and community" (p 200).

Holt does an excellentjob of situating this movement with the farm economy as a whole and within the larger society, characterizing it as one of the many initiatives for improving American society to come out of the Progressive Era She presents a convincing argument that farm women must be included in any consideration of movements for social change during this period But for all her deft handling of the larger issues raised by her subject, Holt's treatment of "the domestic economy movement" is somewhat disconcerting. The confusion begins on the first page of her introduction where she states that "the domestic economy movement grew out of, and was a reflection of, the era's push for progress and reform. It centered on rural women and their education"(p 3) To me, at least, the term "domestic economy movement" has much larger connotations Holt seems to be appropriating the term to denote a movement aimed only at rural women and fails to provide the reader with any understanding of the historical development of the whole field of domestic economy. Moreover, her focus is very much on "the movement" with the result that the women involved never really come to life.

Holt is aware of the sharply differing depictions of western rural women in recent scholarly writings As she notes, "some writers underscore agrarian subjugation and oppression of women, whereas others see women as partners or see them as part of an egalitarian society." Holt herself is inclined to the "partners" school of thought She agrees with Paula Nelson that "no rigid interpretive framework should be forced on the study" of western women (p. 6). No one would argue with that proposition, but it is time to start trying to explain the sharp contrasts between the women who appear in works such as this one and, say, the women of Deborah Fink's Open Country, Iowa (1986) and Agrarian Women (1992) Holt's farm women and Fink's farm women hardly seem to inhabit the same planet.

Jo ANN RUCKMAN Idaho State University Pocatello

Yellowstone's Ski Pioneers: Peril and Heroism on the Winter Trail.

By PAUL SCHULLERY (Worland, Wyo.: High Plains Publishing Co., Inc 1995 xvi + 158 pp Cloth, $17.95; paper $8.95.)

It is almost an axiom: in contemporary skiing literature the more expert the skier, the more egocentric are his writings With the admission, on the dust jacket of his recently published book, that he has spent "many years skiing poorly in Yellowstone," Paul Schullery confirms the converse in Yellowstone's Ski Pioneers. He demonstrates that the adventure sport of skiing can be described in terms other than self.

In his prologue Schullery states that this is not a "proper administrative history or wildlife management history or environmental history" of Yellowstone National Park but instead a history of "something that necessarily falls through the cracks" of more formal studies. He intends it to be an "adventure history" that "has always been extraordinarily important to Yellowstone." Readers who select Yelloxvstone's Ski Pioneers will not be disappointed by his approach.

The book commences with a brief stage-setting chapter, "The Winter in Wonderland," describing Yellowstone's pre-park designation visits by trappers such as Osborne Russell, their observations of area wildlife, and the region's winter climate Beginning with Chapter 2 Schullery recounts the adventures— and misadventures—of various individuals who entered early Yellowstone in winter and who lived, worked, and trapped there. Not all were honorable.

At the front of the book, beneath a note stating that "all author's royalties from this book go to the Yellowstone Association, to further educational publication about the park," there is an explanation that only the absolute minimum editing was done on many extended quotations utilized by the author Archaic and incorrect spellings, Schullery states, were left unchanged to preserve the authenticity of language used at the time.

I, for one, welcome unaltered archaic spellings and misspellings; even more I value extended extracts. As an ardent cross-country skier I have often wondered how the old-timers made their skis and how they used them. An extract from an 1887 Forest and Stream article details how one of the early Yellowstone ski-riders made his "skees" or "skeys." Later in the book, extracts describe ski techniques used, such as "corduroying" and pacing oneself.

I found the four central chapters especially fascinating. Chapter 3, "Schwatka and Haynes," and Chapter 4, "Uncle Billy," present a study in contrasts. The Schwatka segment of Chapter 3 details the aborted Yellowstone expedition organized and led by the "name-brand" arctic explorer/ adventurer Frederick Schwatka. The Uncle Billy chapter counterpoints by describing winter adventures of Thomas Elwood Hofer, one of Yellowstone's "neglected early heroes" and for a half-century an ardent defender of the park. Chapter 5, "The Hardships are Inconceivable," details the U.S Army's presence in the park and the travails endured by winter patrols organized to ferret out trophy poachers. The title, "The Capture of the Notorious Poacher Howell," describes the contents of Chapter 6

The Haynes segment of the Schwatka/Haynes chapter traces photographer F.J. Haynes's activities after he took over the failed Schwatka expedition Haynes is believed to be the first photographer to picture Old Faithful during winter. Several of his other photographs illustrate the types of attire and equipment used by Yellowstone's winter travelers during the late 1880s Numerous other illustrations and photographs supplement the well-written text.

In these days of potential decommissioning of America's national parks (as espoused by such congressmen as Utah'sJim Hansen) it is commendable that Schullery has not neglected his interest in educating and informing his readers of wildlife management and conservation issues faced by park personnel during Yellowstone's formative years "America had a long way to go in sorting out its attitudes towards wildlife," he reflects on the 1887 Report of the Superintendent. "We still do, for that matter," he concludes.

Paul Schullery states his intent of celebrating the time and the individuals "who made such an extraordinary contribution to our understanding and protection of the park." Readers who acquire Yellowstone's Ski Pioneers for their collections will rejoice in his successful effort.

ALEXIS KELNER Salt Lake City

Trickster in the Land of Dreams.

By ZEESE PAPANIKOLAS. (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1995 xii + 184 pp $22.50.)

The trickster in this title is Coyote of Shoshonean mythology. And the dream is of Utopia, which was to be of the Machine Age and is yet to be of Space Age. It is given to Coyote to laugh this machine-driven Utopia to scorn And laugh he does, from one era down to another—the chronicle of this book

It's a big undertaking Coyote has appeared in a remarkable number of people. The Gosiute chief Antelope Jake was such a one. But so was Walt Whitman and Mark Twain And the Three Nephites of The Book of Mormon have played Coyote parts, as have Bishop Koyle, the dream miner of Nebo Mountain, and Willie Nelson with his old guitar, and L Frank Baum, who wrote The Wizard ofOz. And these by no means fill out the list. It is almost as if Coyotes have been more common than tax men Tricksters range all the way from hard-nosed Bill Haywood of the old IWW to a bedaubed Liberace on the Vegas stage.

Utopia is just as various in this account. The conquistadors dreamt the torment and sought Cibola. The Mormons dreamt it and drove west for Zion Our scientist/soldiers have dreamt it, too, and tried to lay out the MX missile.

Now, if, in summary, these themes and figures seem a little diffuse—it is because they are. And if such a jampacked volume would seem reductive—well, it is The gloss is, indeed, severe when it comes to figures like Twain, who could have been a great trickster but who managed to be no more than a "pale, counterfeit version of Coyote"(p. 18). One wonders what Twain, the man who wrote the quintessential American novel, would have had to do to measure up?

And one also has to wonder if the indictment of technology is not too sweeping? If our tools have not given us Utopia, as seems to be the author's lament, isn't it the case that with our tools we have nonetheless gotten up out of the dirt, shut out the cold, kept our teeth strong and straight, and in at least a hundred thousand other ways made ourselves live longer and more richly?

You will probably find yourself pitching a question something like this one back at the author, since Papanikolas's account of technology is neither very penetrating nor very fair And Coyote should come to seem a pretty badly worn rug before you reach the last pages. Out of the native context, a totem figure can cover only so much.

That Trickster is not more substantial seems to me a matter, first, of the author caring little for authenticity of the Indians' mythology In the appendix Papanikolas frankly excuses his work: "I've made up a story less about the Dust People than about myself. . .. I haven't hesitated to combine elements I haven't hesitated to embellish" (p 157).

Nor has he resisted another authorial temptation, that being the highly mannered, highly affected style of the European post-structuralists. We might share in the author's lament for the loss of the Gosiute culture, but the loss of the little subculture of post-structuralism will be no privation.

RUSSELL BURROWS Weber State University