 Well, hello from the National Archives Public Programs and Education Team. My name is Missy McNat, and I'm an Education Specialist in Washington, D.C. Welcome to the April National Archives Comes Alive Young Learners Program. You can find information about our future programs on the National Archives website, archives.gov, under attend an event, and on the National Archives Facebook page. This morning, we meet Frederick Law Olmsted, father of the American landscape architecture. Olmsted is portrayed by Joseph Smith, performing artist of living history, whose mission is to create excitement and curiosity about history by giving voice to stories that celebrate the human spirit. And this year, in 2022, on April 26th, we celebrate the 200th anniversary of the birth of Frederick Law Olmsted. Olmsted is perhaps best known for designing Central Park in New York City, which he co-designed with architect and partner, Calvert Vox. But Olmsted was so much more than a landscape architect. The parks that he designed were part of a larger social vision that transformed democracy into trees and soils and pathways and bridges that were available to all people. In addition, Olmsted was an environmental planner, an engineer, and an artist. And he contributed to the founding of the National Park Service and the United States Forest Service. There are numerous documents connected to Frederick Law Olmsted in the holdings of the National Archives. Several of his residences are part of the National Register for Historic Places. On this slide, we see two documents that connect him to his role, his position, as the executive secretary for the United States Sanitary Commission during the Civil War. And on the slides, you can actually see his signature that's highlighted. Olmsted was selected for this position because of his extraordinary organizational and administrative skills that he demonstrated when he was first, he was the architect in chief at Central Park. On the next slide, we have the Docs Teach activity for today's program. And it is about Central Park, so it's docsteach.teach.org. I encourage you to check it out, and we will share this slide again at the end of our program. At the end of Frederick Law Olmsted's presentation, we will have a question and answer session with him. So please write your questions in the YouTube chat box. We have a National Archives staff member who is monitoring it today. And please let us know if you've ever visited Central Park or any of the parks that Olmsted designed. And let us know where you're watching from today. This program is brought to you by the National Archives Public Programs and Education Team and the National Archives Foundation. So the Frederick Law Olmsted we are about to meet is the young Olmsted before he became a landscape architect. So we will have an opportunity to learn about what influenced his beliefs and his philosophies and his career in becoming a landscape architect. So please join me in giving a very warm welcome to Frederick Law Olmsted. Infinite love. Those are the words my father, John Olmsted, whispered to me as he held me in his arms. We had been walking through the meadows one Sunday evening and I had grown tired, so father picked me up and carried me in his arms the rest of the way. And as I was prone to do, I was trying to get his attention verbally but to no avail. And I noticed something unusual in his face. Following the direction of his eyes, I looked. And I said, oh, there's a star. And it was then that he whispered something of infinite love in a tone and manner which really moved me. So much so that it has ever remained in my heart. My father was a love of nature and horseback riding and he would sit me on a pillow in front of the saddle as we rode throughout the Connecticut countryside taking in all of nature's beauty. The happiest recollections of my early life are the walks and rides with my father and the drives with my parents throughout the Connecticut River Valley. The family would later take trips to the White Mountains of New Hampshire, Lake George in the Adirondacks, and Niagara Falls. You could say that from an early age I was born to be a traveler. From the time I was seven until I reached the age of 18 I would be sent off to study with various ministers and attend dang public and private schools. I learned to read in a little brown school house by the banks of a babbling brook and along its banks were beds of fragrant mint. How lovely. Our teacher, Mrs. Jeffrey, upon hearing the sound of approaching wheels would stop short the lesson and say, your elders are coming. Make your manners, make your manners. We'd run outside, stand by the road, the boys to bow, the girls to curtsy. I had the opportunity to live with my grandparents, my father's parents, while attending Hartford Grammar School. One day I decided to go up into the attic and there was a large sea chest and being the curious boy that I was and still am, I opened it. Inside were books belonging to my grandmother, old novels, plays, books of travel. There were Stearns, a sentimental journey through France and Italy, Goldsmiths, the Vicar of Whitefield and a rather long titled book, The First Word of Solitude by Johann George Zimmerman. This book would leave a great impression on me as I reread it in my early 20s. My grandfather, Benjamin, I heard that he served in the Revolutionary War and had taken part in the expedition to capture Quebec. The same expedition that took a winter's march through the wilderness of Maine. I wanted to know all the particulars on this matter so I applied my grandfather with more questions than I so dared and I asked him if, when there were starving conditions, did he cut the leather off the top of his boots and eat them? He let out a hearty laugh and called grandmother in to tell her about it. The last of my mentors was the Reverend Frederick Barton. He was not only a minister, he was a civil engineer and he taught me land surveying, a skill that I would use in a future profession. I finished my studies with Reverend Barton in the spring of 1840. So here I am, 18 years old, and I still don't know what I want to do in life. And then I find out that my younger brother, John, has the good fortune to go to Paris, France for six months to study French. Paris, France, was I envious? Yes, a little, but then I realized John knew what he wanted to do from an early age. He wanted to study medicine. John was a disciplined one, focused and steady, me. I am a curiosity hunter. Now, father senses that I could use a little stability in my life and I somewhat agreed. And he, being a successful dry goods merchant, uses his connections to get me an apprenticeship as a clerk with the firm Bencott & Hutton. Now, they were importers of fine French silks and dry goods and they were located at 53 Beaver Street in Manhattan, right across from that new dining experience, Delmonico's. Father also arranges living quarters from me at Mrs. Howard's in Brooklyn at 120 Henham Street. Now, I did very well at the firm. In fact, I was promoted to cashier when the partner saw that I could take on more responsibility. I was there one year and seven months, but I could not see myself working behind a desk. I need to be outdoors. Back home in Hartford, I'm sailing up and down the Connecticut River throughout the Long Island Sound and the sea is calling to me. And I am eager to listen and to go. To China, yes, a trip to China on board the ship the Rawlson, April 1843 to April 1844. The longest year of my life. Sea sickness, typhus fever, a fall on the deck, rheumatism, a slight attack of paralysis. Here I am with several grand uncles of worthy maritime stock. And I am not up to the task. Upon my return home, I have a deeper appreciation for the comforts of rural life. And after a summer of recuperating, in the fall of 1844, I go to live with my Uncle David Brooks and work on his farm. Like it? It's outdoors. A year later, I take an apprenticeship with Joseph Welton at his farm near Waterbury, Connecticut. I like it even more. Final stop, upstate New York to Fairmont, the home and farm of Mr. George Gess. I've learned so much from this man. I wanna be a farmer and own my own farm. Now while at Fairmont, I had heard about the Ackley farm on Staten Island, New York, but at the time I couldn't see myself living there. I wanted to be closer to home. So fall the rights out of check for $4,000 and buy me a farm near St. John's Head in Guilford, Connecticut. It is challenging for one thing. Only 40 of the 78 years can be prepared to grow crops at one time and there's no fruit on it. Now I do everything I can. I could plow the fields, I fertilize them, but the soil is too rocky and the fields have been unplowed for 10 years. That farm on Staten Island is looking better and better and it was still available. I liked what I saw. So on January 1st, 1848, father writes out another check. $13,000 for 130 acres. I arrive and march through snow, sleep, and storm with my dog, Nett, my cat, Mina, the furniture and all the potatoes that are fit for the New York market. Now, I've recalled reading an article in New York Daily Tribune describing the property and one of the sentences said the mansion house was new and large. Large perhaps, new. The main part of the house was over 150 years old. Three generations of French Huguenots had lived there and after passing through several hands came into the possession of Dr. Samuel Ackley. Now he added to the house because it was him, his wife, three of his children, and nine grandchildren. But unfortunately, Dr. Ackley passed away in 1845. The family no longer wanted the property and the land had been unused for three years. I could see it needed some improvements. The first thing I noticed is that the outhouses and barns are much too close to the house. So I moved them out of sight behind a small grassy hill. The small pond, the water is contaminated. So I turf the borders of it and install water plants. The road, I give it a graceful curve as it approaches the house. Now I have a system when it comes to farming. This I learned from Mr. Gettys, set chores at set times. Tools and implements put back in their proper places at the end of the day. The foreman gives me a progress report on the day's work as well as going over instructions for the following day all before supper. Now, I am not a gentleman farm. I work right alongside the man. And like Mr. Gettys, I get involved with my local community. I become a trustee of the school board. I write a letter to Staten Islander advocating the need for a plank road and I help organize the Richmond County Agricultural Society. Now the people of Staten Island, they're friendly, they're neighborly. Just further south, there's a Sagaian family. Up on the North Shore, there's George Putnam. He owns his own publishing firm. Judge William Emerson. Yes, Ralph Waldo Emerson's brother. Even the Commodore's son, William Vanderbilt, when he finds out about the improvements I've done on my farm, he reaches out for my help to improve his farm at Newdoll. But the family that lived closest to me were the Perkins. Dr. Perkins had been in a professor anatomy at Dartmouth College and had a granddaughter, Mary. Mary was a frequent visitor to my farm. Speaking of frequent visitors, my brother John was living and studying in Manhattan. And along with his classmate and roommate from Yale, Charles Warren Brace. They would come visit on the weekends both together and separately. Charles was studying for the ministry and he was helping the poor on Blackwell's Island. He would later organize and become the first director of the Children's Aid Society, Charlie. Charlie and I would become lifelong friends. Anything Charlie did, he did with great enthusiasm. Charlie and I, we had strong opinions and we held strong positions. And we would argue back and forth, back and forth as we sat on my porch overlooking the bay. But by the end of the day, or the end of the evening, or the end of the night, or goodness sakes, the end of the next morning, our friendship was just as strong. Well, it seemed like I was getting settled in as a farmer on Staten Island, or so it seemed. February 1850, a month mixed with sadness and joy. It starts off with the news that Charlie's sister Emma has passed away. She had consumption, you know it as tuberculosis. She was 21. But by the end of the month, I find out that my brother John and Mary Perkins are engaged to be married. I am so happy for them. Now, a month later, Charlie and John decide that they wanna go on a trip. They wanna take a walking tour of England and Germany. Well, guess who else wants to go? I write a letter to father, begging and pleading and giving him all kinds of reasons why it would be best for me to accompany them. He agrees to help me with the trip. And for the next several months, Charlie, John and myself, we take in all the sights and sounds. And upon my return home to Staten Island, New York, I would compile my experiences in a two-volume set of books published by George Putnam in 1852. Walks and talks of an American farmer in England. I would dedicate the first volume to Mr. George Guess. What artists so noble has often been my fault as he who, with far-reaching conception of beauty and designing power, sketches the outline, writes the colors and directs the shadow of a picture so great that nature should be employed upon it for generations before the work he has arranged for her shall realize his intentions. The one thing that struck me about the walking tour of England was the public parks. And I wondered where the public parks in the United States. By this time, Charlie had his connection in the literary world and he introduces me to one of the co-founders of the New York Daily Times, Henry Raymond. It was a five-minute interview. Job offered, job accepted. I was traveled to the South and sent back reports on Southern agriculture and the economy as affected by slavery. In 1855, George Putnam deems it necessary to sell his publishing firm due to being in debt. He sells it to another publishing firm and I saw this as my opportunity to continue my new career as a journalist and to earn a living at it. So I find it necessary to move to Manhattan but John and Mary will live at the house and manage the farm. Tell me, the trees I planted at the house, the cedars of Lebanon, the black walnut, the ginkgo, the horse chestnut, the usage, they do still stand, yes? Thinking of those trees reminds me of the time I was living with my grandparents. One day I was laying on the ground with my head between the roots of a lofty elm tree, looking up at the swaying vows and leafage and I noticed my grandfather Benjamin coming out of the house. Now it must have been a Sunday or a holiday because he is dressed in his finest. Shirt with the ruffles on the chest and wrists, stockings and silver buckle shoes, long silver-headed Malacca cane that he used as a walking stick, his long gray hair tied in a queue with a big black broad ribbon at the end of it. I rose as he approached and he was looking at me and looking at the tree and looking at me. He says, do you not think this is a fine tree? I said, yes, grandfather it is. I think it's a very fine tree. You see all these nearby trees? I helped plant those, but this tree, this tree I planted all by myself as a boy. And he went on to describe how he had found it in a swamp, dug it up, picked it up, carried it on his shoulders, walked, brought it back home, replanted it, nurtured it and watched its beautiful growth. And I could tell by the expression on his face that in his long full life, this one activity gave him such complete pleasure and such complete joy. Now I know how my grandfather Benjamin felt. Long before there was a central park, a prospect park, a park system in Buffalo and Boston, long before there was a World's Fair in Chicago or a Vanderbilt State in North Carolina. There was a house, a farm, a home right on Staten Island, New York. And it still stands today. I lived there from 1848 to 1855. I called it Tossamak. It's now known as Olmsted Beale House. And there's a dedicated group of folks, the friends of Olmsted Beale House that are doing their best to help protect, present and preserve this house not only for the present generation, but for future generations to come. And speaking of present and future generations, I understand that there may be some questions from the audience. So, Missy, ask away. Well, thank you. That was wonderful. I have a much better understanding of Olmsted now and with his background. So, you obviously love the farming. So what did you like about, what was it about farming that you enjoyed so much? What was it that really caught your imagination and your passion? Well, as I said before, Missy, it's outdoors. I loved, from an early age, I was out in nature so much, myself and my brother and the whole family. And I also feel that farming taught me those organizational skills, the discipline that was needed in administrating and overseeing growing crops for a very important market, the New York City market. I also wanted to, well, as I wrote to a friend of mine, Frederick Kingsbury, I wanted to be useful in the world to make others happy and to advance the condition of society. So, what crops did you grow? Were they food crops? Oh, yes, cabbages, potatoes. I was very proud of my pear orchard. Do you know that there were over a thousand varieties back when I was around? Now, I understand it's three times that a bunch. Wow, that's amazing. Things have changed. So, and your love of trees, the passion for trees and all of that is just so important. So were there any, so you moved from farming into a career of journalism? Were there any particular books that inspired you in your youth or as you got older in any of your works? Because you did so many different things. I certainly did, Missy. I had many, many careers. I read all kinds of books. I remember reading two books in particular at the Hartford Public Library. There was one by Sir Price called the Essay on the Picturesque. He was a proponent of landscape gardening. And then there was William Gilpin's Remarks on Forest scenery. And I think that I always try to read as broad in terms of topics of books, philosophy, politics, law, art, poetry, literature. As you know, during my time, there was Emerson, Thoreau, Hawthorne, Whitman, Melville, Washington Irving, who was very important in getting me that superintendent job at Central Park. I did not know that connection. That is really interesting. He was one of the gentlemen who signed that letter of recommendation. Oh wow, that's fantastic. So you obviously were friends with him and knew him in different capacities. So that's interesting, very interesting. So you talked about your walking tour of Europe. Was there any particular park that stood out for you that you remembered and brought back ideas? That would be Birkenhead Park. And why? Why Birkenhead? I think the fact that people from all walks of life were experiencing that park. And I thought, as I said before, where are the public parks in the United States? At the time, people, it was necessary to go to these very elaborate and beautifully landscaped cemeteries to go out for a picnic, I would have you. But it had me thinking. But not the parks, so yeah. So that's really interesting that Europe had them and there were none here in the United States waiting for you to design them. So, and designing Central Park, what were there any inspirations, particular inspirations? Because I understand it was a piece of land that was, you talked about having a very rocky, the first farm that you had was the rocky soil was not good for growing crops. And my understanding is that land that was there that became Central Park was not particularly good land. And so it required a lot of tender care, loving lots of different things. So anything that stood out for you about designing Central Park and transforming that land. I'm glad that you used that word transforming, Missy. It was important for both myself and Calvert Box to sort of add both in terms of scenery, both the pastoral and the picturesque, to lay out areas where there was open, grassy fields with a scattering of trees and groves, but then also retain that picturesque, that ground covering and the shrubs and sort of that overgrowth where the light would filter in and sort of add in mystery to the area. But also to make sure that those two styles did not intrude on one another. Yeah, that's, I mean, it's amazing to me that these parks have lasted and are so well loved today. As much as, perhaps I'm sure more, more people use them than ever. And such an important part of our landscape is just no doubt about it. So was there any particular park? I mean, you know, that stands out for you that you designed that you thought this is the best work that I've ever done. This is the greatest. Now, if I were to say which one was the greatest, I would be hearing from several other parks and say, what? Each one comes with its own challenges, as you know, Missy. And it was important to also keep in mind how can this be of service to people? Does it have, how can I turn this so that people can come to the parks and refresh, renew, re-nurture themselves from the daily stresses of life? They all have their own wonderful qualities and each, of course, had their own challenges. Right, yes. I mean, it is amazing how you use the land to reflect the space because that has to be taken in consideration. So, yeah, so it's really an incredible career and to found a landscape architecture in this country when it really was not a career, it was not something that people studied to do and now is a very, very important profession for all of us. So I'm just looking, well, so yeah, so you've kind of touched on this a number of times but why are parks important? So what would you, if you had to give three reasons, what are the three reasons why parks are most important? I would say that firstly, they restore not only the body, but the mind. Secondly, again, you go to a park to get away from the daily stress of life and you renew yourself, you take in nature in all its beauties. You may have a favorite park out there and you sit under a tree. That's a memory, the only memory I have of my mother, my biological mother, is her with me sewing under a tree so that any time I saw a woman with her child sewing, it brought back a wonderful memory for me. And taking in nature, the birds, the flowers, the plants, it's indescribable. And also, thirdly, public parks represent democracy in action. People from all walks of life have equal access, whether they want to take part in active recreation or to have peace and calm. They're wonderful, amazing open spaces. So, well, we have time for one more question for you and that is what advice do you have as Frederick Law Olmsted for young people today? Be curious. Curiosity is a wonderful tool to have because every day you're learning something new. You're growing every day. And curiosity, that's what I was all about. It's why I had so many careers. I also would say, move on to the next project. Don't worry if you made mistakes, we all make them. Experience the joy that comes with each new day. Curiosity, learning, reading. That's wonderful advice. And I think that we can all use that to all be curious and continue to learn throughout our lives. I think that's important for young people, for people of all ages. So we've certainly enjoyed meeting and talking with you today, Mr. Olmsted, and learning about your younger life and many, many contributions that you made to American society. So thank you so much. Thank you, Missy. And as I said before, we are going to see the Docs Teach activity that's featured on Central Park. So again, I encourage you, check it out, docsteach.docsteach.org. And then finally, if you are able to, I hope you will join us for our May program where we meet Marion Anderson. She is perhaps best known for the Easter Sunday concert in 1929, where she brought in an audience of 75,000 people at the Lincoln Memorial. And we'll learn a little bit more about how that all came about. So thank you for joining us today. And we hope that you will join us next month for Marion Anderson. And thank you for joining us today. Bye.