Restoring the Vision of Olmsted andVaux in Central Park's Woodlands

Urban Renewal

The central portion of the Loch today. Olmsted reconstructed a small stream into an open waterbody. which has since filled to capacity with silt from the watershed. Black willow (Salix nigra)trees that took hold several decades ago are now falling into the stream corridor. The woodlandsadvisory board has begun discussing management of this area. Photo by Sara Cedar Miller

"Rocky passages of the Park, which hadbeen furnished under my directionwith a natural growth of characteristicrocky hillside perennials, have beenmore than once 'cleaned up,' and sothoroughly that the leaf-mould, withwhich the crevices of the ledge hadbeen carefully filled for the sustenanceof the plants, was swept out with housebrooms . . . and all in the heart of anAppalachian glen."

-Frederick Law Olmsted. "The Spoils ofthe Park," February 1882.

wood of the native deciduous species ad­mirably grouped by nature ... " in whatis now the Upper Park's North Woods,and in the Lower Park a large but younggrove of deciduous trees that would needfew additions.

Since the park could not rightly im­itate seashore, desert, mountain, or prai­rie, the designers chose the overall land­scape character to mimic rural scenery. Itis well documented that this artistic stylewas directly imported from England's ro­mantic landscapes designed by HumphreyRepton and Joseph Paxton, among others.Central Park's rural scenery featured twodesign types-the pastoral landscape, con­sisting of broad expanses of gently rollingmeadows and placid lakes, and its directcontrast, the picturesque landscape.

To fashion Central Park's picturesqueareas, trees were left and new ones plantedto form a continuous canopy; vines weretrained to grow up tree trunks; mosses andferns were encouraged to grow in bouldercrevices; grades were changed on streamsor water courses rerouted to create cas­cades; imported soil was mounded up andplanted With evergreens to create the il­lusion of miniature mountains. Shelters orbenches constructed were usually in therustic style. Everything in the picturesquelandscape was placed to enhance the vis­itor's enjoyment of the lushness and detailof a wilderness. It was to be a re-creationof scenery reminiscent of the Adirondackor Appalachian Mountains-genuineAmerican landscapes. Approximately 20percent of the land that Olmsted called"heterogeneous surface"-magnificentbedrock outcrops, a series of bluffs, a steep

pseudo-acacia); 1,200 specimens of the Sa­lix genus; 1,000 specimens of the Betulagenus; 600 mockernut hickory (Carya to­mentosa); 500 American chestnut (Cas­tanea dentata); and 300 flowering dogwood(Comus florida) to name a few. Americanand beaked filbert (Corylus americana andC. comuta), wild black cherry (Prunus ser­otina), Carolina rose (Rosa carolina), sum­mersweet (Clethra alnifolia), sweet andswamp azaleas (Rhododendron arborescensand R. viscosum) , winterberry (Ilex laevi­gata) , sassafras (sassafras albidum), andcommon greenbrier (Smilax rotundifolia)were listed as abundant, common, or(very) numerous. The part of the land­scape not disturbed by cutting, grazing, ortrampling was regenerating. Olmstedwrote in 1857 about" ... a fine young

fortifications. Inhabitants had alreadyplanted non-native species such as Lom­bardy poplar (Populus Nigra 'Italica'), andtree-of-heaven (Ailanthus altissima), par­ticularly surrounding their dwellings.

Contrary to written descriptions byClarence Cook and others that give theimpression that the land "as mostly bar­ren, a survey of existing plants on theground for Central Park conducted in Au­gust and September of 1857 by CharlesRawolle and Ignatz Pilat records morethan 280 species, many of them native.Rawolle and Pilat estimated that therewere 12,000 American hornbeam (Carpi­nus americana); 9,000 red maple (Acerrub­rum); 8,000 specimens of nine Quercusspecies; 6,000 sweetgum (Liquidambarstyr­aciflua); 3,000 black locust (Robinia

Clnlty (Parks & Recreation Natural Re­sources Group, 1993) Although only frag­ments of the pre-colonial forest survive,Marc Matsil, director of the Natural Re­sources Group, and his staff have doneenough investigation to confirm that theplant community matrix was and contin­ues to be unique on the Eastern Seaboardbecause of its location at the juncture oftwo hardiness zone limits. For instance,Staten Island still has evidence of sugarmaple and beech forests (a northern har­diness zone plant community at its south­ern limit) mingled with hackberry andsweet bay magnolia (a southern hardinesszone plant community at its northernlimits).

Although plant records are not ex­plicit until the 1800s, we do know thatmost of the original forest on ManhattanIsland was cut by the Dutch and Englishsettlers. The forest was further denuded bythe British military who occupied the is­land for seven years (1776 to 1783) duringthe Revolutionary War. These actions di­rectly affected Central Park, since therewas a line of fortifications across its north­ern limits along with three permanent en­campments. From the city's tax and con­demnation records we also know that theland on which Central Park was built waschanging rapidly during the mid-1850s asNew York City expanded northward onManhattan Island. As many as 5,000 peo­ple lived within Central Park's originalboundaries, 57th to 106th streets, at thattime. Land use varied from farms, pastur­age, piggeries, and dwellings with subsis­tence gardens to churches and cemeteries,taverns, bone-boiling factories, rubbishheaps, quarries, and abandoned military

The Genesis of CentralPark's WoodlandsTo create New York City's Central Park,341 ha (843 acres) of prime real estate setaside for public use, many thousands ofcartloads of top soil were imported fromNew Jersey and Long Island, hundreds ofpounds of dynamite were used to blast theManhattan schist bedrock for the sunkentransverse roads, and miles of clay pipewere laid to thoroughly drain the land­scape. Between 1857 and 1873 Olmstedand Vaux oversaw the creation of an idyl­lic public landscape out of what at thetime was considered a relatively nonde­script parcel of land at the city's urbanfringe.

. New York City hosts a wide array ofnatural communities from forests to saltmarshes, according to the Native SpeciesPlanting Guide for New York City and Vi-

by Marianne Cramer

Few restoration projects have assumeda civic dimension as broad as that of

the recent woodlands revival in NewYork's Central Park. From removing po­litical roadblocks to surviving public scru­tiny to handling an eager but diverse corpsof volunteers, park planners faced tremen­dous challenges that required innovativeresponses.

Rather than a restoration to a pre­contact landscape, the Central Parkwoodlands project sought to renew themagnificent urban plan of Frederick LawOlmsted and Calvert Vaux, who designedthe park in the mid-1800s. Their originalintent-to create rural tranquillity amongthe chaos of the city-guided each phaseof the restoration.

creates opportunities

large-scale restoration

and management

Civic involvement

and obstacles in·a

project.

106 RESTORATION & MANAGEMENT NOTES 11:2 Winter 1993 RESTORATION & MANAGEMENT NOTES 11:2 Winter 1993 107

The horticulture crew fills rock crevices with soil on the man·made

cliff by Glenspan Arch; extant native plants were left where they

grew. Photo by Sara Cedar Miller

Close·up of the man-made cliff near Glenspan Arch. planted with such species as white fringe

tree (Chionanthus virginicus); summersweet (Clethra alnifolia); winterberry (llex verticillata);

Christmas fern (Polystichum acrostichoides); and hay-scented fern (Dennstaedtia punctilobula).

Photo by Sara Cedar Miller

For the next several years the park wasexamined from top to bottom by hydrolo­gists, soil scientists, foresters, sociologists,and landscape architects. Each park-widecomponent system-geology, topography,utilities, soils, hydrology, vegetation andwildlife, maintenance, and security-wasinventoried and analyzed. Investigationsof park annual reports, maps, and photo­graphs helped piece together a complexand fascinating history of the park and itscomponent systems. I was part of the four­person planning team responsible formanaging the process and compiling andinterpreting all data gathered by consult­ants and Central Park staff. In our analysisand subsequent plan formulation, we de­cided to divide the park into three distinctlandscape types based on physical attrib­utes and management needs. Of thethree-meadow, parkland, and wood­land-woodlands were the most complexand, at the time, the least understood.

ing a small committee to participate in thewildlife inventory and analysis, it wasbusiness as usual.

The Management andRestoration Plan

the begirming of an overall reduction inthe tree canopy and subsequent loss ofhabitat for birds. At public hearings heldby the Landmarks Preservation Commis­sion and community boards many userssang praises for the wild cherry (Prunusserotina), the major species removed, as anexcellent food source for migratory birdsthat should be kept at its present densityand number. It was very clear at the endof the public airing that the environmen­tal community had lost any shred of trustin agency decision-making and preferredthat nothing be done at all in the wood­lands.

The incident captured the attentionof the news media nationwide. For thoseof us who were about to embark on aneven more difficult planning effort for theentire park, the episode was particularlyenlightening. For me, as I think it was for ,all the staff, the lessons learned from thepublic upheaval were ingested but not en­tirely assimilated. I had witnessed publicopposition that effectively foreclosed thechance to rebuild a degraded area of thepark. At the time my planning colleaguesand I did not propose major public in­volvement in the plarming process wewere just beginning and except for creat-

erations and capital budget for the park.In the past decade, the conservancy andits board of trustees has played an ever­increasing role in managing, restoring andmaintaining the park, and providing serv­ices and educational opportunities for itsvisitors.

The establishment of the conser­vancy put the administrator, a city-ap­pointed official and president of the con­servancy, in a position to craft uniqueprocesses to manage and restore the park.For instance, in the absence of availablecity monies for planning, the conservancyfunded the initial blueprint for the park'srestoration in the early 1980s. In othercases, by funding design, the conservancycould leverage projects into the Parks de­partment's budget when other projectsfailed to make the commitment plandeadline. Subsequently, it has providedthe support needed to initiate and sustainthe woodlands program.

Immediately before the planning ef­fort began in earnest, an incident occurredthat would directly affect the woodlandrestoration process. A 1979 master plandrafted for the Ramble-a 36-acre wood­land and premier birding area in the cen­ter of the park---emphasized restoringOlmsted's design intent (that is, it was nota restoration to the pre-contact land­scape). To reclaim a vista established byOlmsted, two dozen trees were removed.The decision was made without signifi­cant public input, and heated dJbate fol­lowed.

The majority of protesters testifiedthat the removal of trees was an isolateddecision that did not take into accountpost-removal issues such as plant replace­ment or area management. Although agroup of naturalists and users had au­thored the wildlife chapter of the reportand the proposal had been presented atseveral public forums, there had been noformal review and revision process, andthus no consensus for the recommenda­tions. There was dismay at the lack ofpub­lic involvement in the removal decision.

Change in general in a city where astreetscape can change overnight is con­sidered suspect. It is not unusual to receivecomplaint letters about the removal of afavored overhanging branch or a bench.This time the removal of trees was seen as

water drainage system, floods, eutrophicwater bodies, and buildings covered withgraffiti. The park was literally "goingdown the drain."

The woodlands were the first land­scapes that park management abandoned.Abandonment is of course a managementdecision in itself; in this case it was madebecause there was no other choice. By themid-'70s, the decimated maintenanceforce could hardly keep up with properlawn care and daily garbage collection.

Although no year-by-year rec­ord of management decisions isavailable to document what ac­tually happened when thewoodlands were abandoned, acomparison of the 1934 fieldsurvey and the 1982 groundplane survey tells one part ofthe tale. Because mowing wasdiscontinued, many smallwoodland glades extant in 1934had disappeared by 1982. Op­portunistic species such as wildcherry, sycamore maple (Acerpseudoplatanus), Norway maple(A. platanoides) , and Japaneseknotweed (Reynoutria japonica)had replaced "lawn."

The year 1979 broughtnew life to Parks and Recrea­tion. New York City's fiscal cri­sis ended, a new administrationwas voted into office, and a newParks commissioner, GordonDavis, set about making sweep­ing changes in his moribunddepartment. In order to re-es­tablish authority and responsi­bility at the lowest possiblelevel, the commissioner initi­ated a decentralization of thedepartment by re-institutingfive borough-level park com­missioner positions and creat-ing the position of administra­tor for major regional parks of

the system. Elizabeth Barlow Rogers wasappointed as the Central Park administra­tor.

One of Rogers' most significant ini­tiatives was to create a non-profit corpo­ration, the Central Park Conservancy,whose mission in part has been to raiseprivate funds to supplement the city's op-

fitness and an appetite for large events;maintenance was decreasing. Long-termplanning and management were nonexist­ent. This deadly combination was soonmanifested in the park's physical condi­tion-loss of ground cover, diseased trees,severe soil erosion and compaction, thebreakdown of the underground storm-

Central Park has gone through many cy­cles of deterioration, public concern andoutcry, and subsequent renewal. The mostsevere decline occurred during the 1960sand '70s, when New York City budgetcuts coincided with the rediscovery of thepark as a vital recreational and culturalcomponent of public life. Use was increas­ing, spurred by a new concern for physical

Rebirth of a NaturalLandmark

stream valley-was treated in this man­ner. Today 52 ha (130 acres) of the orig­inal picturesque landscape (falling intothree areas-the North Woods, the Ram­ble, and the Hallett Nature Sanctuary) aredesignated park woodlands.

In constructing the park Olmsted andVaux did not attempt to restore the orig­inal deciduous forest or the shallow emer­gent marsh meadows (called "muscoota"by the native Americans) that existed be­fore the advent of the first European set­tlers in the early 1600s. Olm­sted was creating an idealnaturalistic landscape-naturalin its visual composition, notits species composition. He andhis horticulturists orderedthousands of plants from nurs­eries in England, Scotland, andFrance that offered a greater va­riety and number than theirAmerican counterparts, whichwere not yet ready to supply thehundreds of thousands of plantsactually installed in CentralPark. Even if an all-native plantpalette had been available, I se­riously doubt they would haveused them exclusively. Afterall, development of the parktook place at the height of theage of the great plant explora­tions, when anything exotic,looking would have been seizedand popped in the ground. Al­lowing for the scant informa­tion on plant communitiesavailable to the builders andfirst managers of the park, theywere not making the wrong de­cisions.

As always, the passage oftime is the one limiting andregulating factor that occurs inall living systems no matterhow raw their beginnings. Tothe living communities pres-ent, the park's original construction musthave been as cataclysmic as a major earth­quake (although I still marvel how muchof the original physiography was left in­tact.) Then came more than a century ofthe land's use as a park. As in many similarnaturalistic parks around the country, oursdid not fare well.

108 RESTORATION & MANAGEMENT NOTES 11:2 Winter 1993 RESTORATION & MANAGEMENT NOTES 11:2 Winter 1993 109

The first cascade by Glenspan Arch. as it appeared in the 1870s. The Burrows house. a structure

that pre-dates the park. is in the background atop the Great Hill.

Woodlands crew me~bers place boulders by the newly dredged portion of the Loch.

the restoration of the woodlands our in­tent is not to restore the Olmstedian land­scape species for species and placement forplacement as it was in 1873. We are usingas our ideal Olmsted's original ideal-theforests of the Adirondack and Appala­chian mountains-positioned by our pres­ent conceptual knowledge of the ecologyof the landscape, its structure and func­tion. How different would a historic pho­tograph of the Ravine look as comparedto a photograph of a landscape restored to

the structure and function of the EasternSeaboard forest? Not much.

This justification does not mean thatin every case ecological and historic res­toration are the same. It also does notmean that there are no conflicts betweena historic restoration and an ecologicalrestoration. For instance Olmsted rede­signed an original stream flowing throughthe Ravine into a series of pools and cas­cades. Over time the pools have filledwith silt from the watershed. Today thecentral portion has reverted to a marshystream course. The structure of the land­scape is interesting, but not as rich as itscounterpart would be in a natural situa­tiCin. How should it be restored? Shouldthe current hydrology of the system deter­mine its form and function? Should it bedesigned as an efficient bio-filter? Shouldwe dredge to re-create the Olmstedian wa-

...plants already proved successful-such aswoodland aster (Asterdivaricatus) and Vir­ginia polygonum (pQlygonum virginiana)­would be used. Only later when the woodswere healthier would a ground layer ofmore fragile plants be introduced. In allcases natural processes would be encour­aged, but at the outset of woodland man­agement and restoration it was not knownwhat the prospects were for recovery ofthese heavily impacted sites.

As Leslie and I began to envisionwhat the components of a woodland res­toration process would be, I was thinkingabout my other sacred trust-that of re­storing the intent of the Olmstedian land­scape. "Intent" is not meant to have anarcane meaning. Simply put, Central Parkis a scenic landmark that was createdsolely for the health and enjoyment ofpeople-past, present, and future. In orderto accommodate present and future use,the park must be changed and adaptedbut, in all cases, using the general designprinciples manifest in the original plan.For instance, an original pathway mayhave to be relocated to accommodate anew destination. The actual placementtakes a secondary role to nestling the pathinto the landscape, providing a pleasingcurve and contour for the path and posi­tioning it at the edge, not the middle, ofa pastoral landscape type. With regard to

tions and site visits, Leslie suggested start­ing the project with a key informant sur­vey that concentrated on problems andconcerns. The premise: by beginning di­alogue and trust building on an issue, itwill be less difficult to gain consensus.

During the summer of 1988 Lesliemet with groups and individuals repre­senting the environmental community,adjacent park neighborhoods, and a widevariety of woodland users in addition toParks department and Central Park per­sonnel. Informal conversations were con­ducted with woodland users as she in­spected each site. The result was a' draftdocument, "Landscape Management &Restoration Program for the Woodlandsof Central Park, Phase One Report: Con­sensus of the Interviews, Key Issues & In­itial Program Recommendations." Publicinvolvement continued. The draft was re­leased to the original participants with arequest for written comments from whichthe final report was compiled and thendistributed to a larger public audience inDecember of 1989. Participant commentsreflected a continuing skepticism that his­tory and environmental imperatives couldever coalesce; however, all were pleasedwith the process up to that point.

Four major problems of the wood­lands were identified: 1) off-path use ofbicycles and vehicles, 2) off-path tram­pling, 3) breakdown of the storm-waterdrainage system, and 4) the spread of ex­otic invasive plant species, particularlyNorway maple, sycamore maple, and Jap­anese knotweed. The report admitted thatthere was little known about the manage­ment and restoration of urban woodlandsand recommended that much of the res­toration be incorporated into the day-to­day management of the landscapes over amuch longer period of time (decades tocenturies instead of months to years). Theapproach would not only reduce stresseson the woodland ecosystem but also re­duce the chance of large-scale missteps byallowing time to do the necessary inven­tory, research, and monitoring.

Firm boundaries were established foreach woodland area and buffer zones de­lineated. Within these boundaries, Leslierecommended only native plants be used.At the beginning of the process when thewoodlands were being "stabilized," native

we would have to invent a completely dif­ferent process for planning and fundingthe woodland restoration. When I madethe case, the conservancy, understandingthe seriousness of the problem, includedwoodland planning as a part of their cap­ital fundraising effort.

After six years of constructing stan­dard landscape restoration projects in thepark, it was evident that this process couldnot be used as a model for the woodlands.Construction documents are deceptive.On a layout plan, a dashed line for a newstorm-water drain looks quite innocuous.It really means large machinery lumberingacross the landscape compacting soil anddeep excavation obliterating soil struc­ture. True, mitigations could be devised,but the woods would still be affected. Cap­ital construction procedures were evenmore ~avalierwhen addressing new plant­ings. This was the stuff of nightmares afterwitnessing the mayhem brought on by re­moval of two dozen woodland trees.

As the person responsible for park de­sign and planning at the time, I made sev­eral decisions that began to shape our pro­cess. The first was to ask Maintenance andOperations to assume direct reporting re­sponsibility for woodland restoration.Planning, design, and construction de­partments would have an advisory rela­tionship. The second was to commit topublic involvement at the start of the pro­ject no matter how messy the process be­came. Our generic approach to involvingthe public up to this time was straight­forward but did not engender public own­ership of the decisions: first create the pro­ject plan, then request public input. Thethird was to go outside the Parks depart­ment to find an unbiased professional whohad the ability to balance both environ~

mental and historic imperatives. Thus be­gan the partnership with Leslie Sauer ofAndropogon Associates that continuestoday.

I remember asking Leslie as wewalked through the Ravine what we aspark managers should do when a tree­any tree-fell in the woodlands. I do notrecall her exact reply, but it had to do withcreating a woodlands management pro­gram to be a paradigm of process and bal­ance and let nature do as much of thework as possible. After initial conversa-

celerated as the conservancy began toraise significant private dollars. There waslittle momentum for woodland projects­they were too controversial. But in 1986,as the conservancy was preparing to gopublic with a five-year, $50 million capitalcampaign, an updated capital project pri­ority list for the fund-raising effort wasneeded. While I was preparing a .mapshowing projects completed and in theplanning, design, or construction stages,one glaring omission resurfaced. The parkwoodlands were nowhere on any schedule.

Planning for and undertaking resto­ration of the woodlands could no longerbe ignored. Our mission was to restore theentire park-not just the easy parts. Manyof the particular problems of three out ofthe five major park watersheds were thedirect result of deteriorating conditions ina woodland landscape. However, I knew

Our general woodland goals and rec­ommendations that were a part of thepublished plan, such as leaving somestanding and fallen deadwood, eliminat­ing erosion caused by the breakdown ofthe storm-water drainage system and off­path trampling, and controlling one non­native species (Japanese knotweed), dealtalmost exclusively with what should bedone, not how to do it. Woodland land­scape restorations were budgeted andscheduled like any other capital construc­tion project. Looking back, it seems to methat we were just beginning to view thepark and in particular the newly labeledwoodlands as complicated natural systemsin addition to recognizing their signifi­cance as an important visual componentof the Olmstedian plan.

In the mid-1980s the restoration ofthe meadows, parkland, and buildings ac-

110 RESTORATION & MANAGEMENT NOTES 11:2 Winter 1993 RESTORATION & MANAGEMENT NOTES 11:2 Winter 1993 111

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Leslie was absolutely on target when shetold me to get our toughest critics on theadvisory board. It would have been easyto only recruit park friends and, believeme, I was tempted. The lesson learned isthat you always meet your critics some­where down the road. Better it be in aforum designed for working togetherrather than fighting against each other. Itwas not as if the board was to be composedsolely of users- life-long birders, membersof the Audubon Society or Sierra Club,community board members, or writers onthe environmental scene. In fact, close tohalf the board has always.been parks de­partment staff.

We created the advisory board as aworking committee meeting 12 or moretimes a year. Many of the same partici­pants in the initial survey were asked tojoin the board. I asked Leslie to continueto consult with us as the chair and facili­tator of the board and as an advisor to thestaff. This has been a very different wayof using a consultant. In effect the con­sultant is training the staff to make deci­sions and do the work. During the firstyear the advisory board established pro­tocol, reaffirmed woodlands problems anddecided what issues to tackle immediately.These first decisions were critical to thesuccess of the board. Field implementa­tion would only proceed if board consen­sus could be reached. A meeting summarywould be distributed and become part ofthe continually developing management"plan."

After site visits the board chose theNorth Woods area to concentrate its ef-

Convening the AdvisoryBoard

care for the woodlands, and 3) under­standing and appreciating the importanceof Central Park's woodlands and forestsworldwide.

First it was important to establish anidentity for the woodlands as places witha unique set of characteristics, problems,and opportunities. The first step Leslieand I took was to coin the name NorthWoods for the collection of historicallynamed landscapes-the Great Hill, theRavine, and the area surrounding BlockHouse No. 1.

People as Part of the ProcessAlthough it took time for the park man­agers involved to become comfortablewith the concept of public involvement,the fundamental idea of "managing to­ward ..." rather than "constructingto ..." was accepted immediately. We be­gan using medical jargon in reference tothe woodlands. Methods of erosion con­trol became "trauma blankets." Prioritiz­ing the woodlands was compared to a pa­tient in a hospital choosing to undergothe coronary by-pass before having thefacelift. The vocabulary was certainlyappropriate: we had a patient on the criti­cal list.

Public involvement has grown organ­ically out of the key informant survey rec­ommendations. It has taken three years toput into place a full range of programs thatengage the public-at-large, and the pro­grams continue to evolve. This involve­ment now encompasses three roles: 1) de­cision-m~king, 2) helping to restore and

I

" '0; .Storm water coursing through the valley destroyed the path adjacent to Huddlestone Arch. Thepath is shown here after reconstruction and just before planting. Photo by Sara Cedar Miller

ter body? These questions have yet to beanswered.

Just as important, Central Park'swoodlands offer a pivotal laboratory forboth the public and restoration profes­sionals. It is "ground zero"; if a sustainablenative forest can be established here, itcan happen anywhere. Central Park is alandscape fragment. I like to describe it tothe public as an island (the green rectan­gle) within an island (Manhattan Island)within an island (the metropolitan area).To the restoration community, it mayseem too small to have meaning withinthe larger restoration picture. But to theurban population whose only forest ex­perience is in the park, or to the migratorybirds searching for a place in the sea ofasphalt and glass to rest and refuel, it isirreplaceable. It deserves the most carefulrestoration we can offer. In Central Park'swoodland, people are a part of the land­scape ecology: they provide its structureand function by definition of the originalmission of the park.

112 RESTORATION & MANAGEMENT NOTES 11:2 Winter 1993 RESTORATION & MANAGEMENT NOTES 11:2 Winter 1993 113

"The management of the ground between the skating pond and Vista Rock'(nowknown as the Ramble) appears to be indicated by its fonn and the character of itspresent growth. It is well sheltered, and large masses of rock occur at intervals. Thesoil is moist, and altogether remarkably well adapted to what is called in Europe anAmerican garden, that is, a ground for the special cultivation of hardy plants of thenatural order Ericacaei, consisting of rhododendrons, andromedas, azaleas, kalmias,rhodoras &c. The present growth, consisting of sweetgum, spice-bush, tulip-tree,sassafras, red-maple, black-oak, azalea, andromeda &c., is exceedingly intricate andinteresting. The ground is at present too much encumbered with stone, and withvarious indifferent plants. By clearing these away, and carefully leaving what isvaluable; by making suitable paths, planting abundantly as above suggested, andintroducing fastigiate shrubs, and evergreens occasionally, to prevent a monotonyof hushes, the place may be made very channing."

-Frederick Law Olmsted and Calvert Vaux, "Description of a Plan for the Improoement ofthe Central Park. 'greensward,' " 1858.

Asummer youth intern places jute mesh-part of a "trauma blanket"-on a slope so it will notwash away. Photo by Sara Cedar Miller

forts. It was less impacted and less used,and thus a less controversial area to beginwork. The board w~nted more informa­tion such as the relative health of theNorth Woods, especially regarding the ex­tent of the spread of non-native' trees.With board approval, four categories ofrelative health were defined and recorded."Stable" areas were defined as predomi­nantly native communities with minimalexotic invasion. "Declining-earlystages" would contain predominantly na­tive communities, with evidence of earlyinvasion, primarily seedling and saplingsize plants. Invasive non-natives were re­producing at a greater rate than natives."Declining-later stages" would includethose landscapes with native communitiesstill present but with reproduction dis­tinctly curtailed and invasive non-nativeswell established and spreading rapidly. A"degraded" area would exhibit non­natives well entrenched with minimal orno reproduction of native species. Nativeplants might still persist as besiegedpatches of ground cover or lone canopytrees.

This inventory was not a scientificcount: it was a "reading of the landscape"and the first assignment of the newly hiredwoodlands manager under Leslie Sauer'stutelage. Field implementation guidelinesfor each mapping unit were then estab­lished. Stable areas would receive moni­toring and trash removal. If necessarymanual removal of new non-native seed-

lings would occur twice a year. Degradedareas would also receive trash removal butin effect be contained by management ofdeclining areas on their perimeter. Itwould be the declining areas that wouldneed more management effort. The advi­sory board instructed the WoodlandsManager to begin removing non-nativeinvasive seedlings and saplings up to 4inches dbh in order of early-declining tolater-declining areas. Removals wouldonly occur when enough native groundcover was present to hold the top soil andwhen a sapling was not a part of the ov­erstory canopy. All removals would bemanual; no soil would be grubbed to effectcomplete root removal; there would be noremoval if an excessive amount of soilwould be exposed. The goal was toachieve a gradual expansion of the extentof stable landscapes. It was also agreedthat this approach would have the highestcost-benefit ratio as less effort would berequired for removal and the existingplant communities would hopefully closeranks without additional planting.

In some cases it has taken severalyears to educate ourselves to the fact thatthere is no information out there onwhich to base decisions. Many boardmeetings are spent discussing so'me aspectof our program, such as the advisability ofusing herbicides. Leslie is the personmainly responsible for finding and distrib­uting relevant literature and leading thediscussions. I always meet with her before

board meetings to discuss the agenda is­sues and visit the woodland sites underdiscussion. The woodlands manager anddirector of horticulture have a standinginvitation to attend these meetings.

The board has moved on to manymore issues and projects, such as establish­ing monitoring plots to test herbicide ver­sus manual removal of Japanese knot­weed. This past year the board developedan implementation and monitoring planfor the removal of seminal non-native in­vasives. For a board to assume this sort ofmission requires a talented facilitator andcommitted members. It also needs exper­tise. We have been fortunate to have as ·members the assistant director of thepark's Natural Resources Group, DeborahLev, and a researcher for the Institute ofEcosystem Studies, Dr. Richard Pouyat.They have helped craft monitoring andresearch studies-the most recent ofwhich will begin to document the pres­ence or absence of ectomycorrhizae anddo comparative studies in non-urbanforests.

Caring for the Woodlands:Volunteers and DonorsDennis Burton, the new woodlands man­ager and "insider" who had worked on theCentral Park Conservancy's tree crew andvolunteer program, began by recruitingvolunteers to implement the work pro­gram. Using volunteers had been a rec­ommendation of the Phase I report andnevertheless there were no funds availableto hire a crew. Letters went out to envi­ronmental organizations. In the spring of1991 Central Park celebrated Earth Daywith volunteer recruitment and woodlandtours. Participants of Central Park's vol­unteer clearinghouse, Learning and In­volvement for Volunteers in the Environ­ment (L.I.V.E.), also transferred into thewoodland program.

Woodlands volunteers were asked todo more than clean, paint, sweep, andrake: they took on tasks normally per­formed by the park's landscape crews.Necessary specialized training was pro­vided by the woodlands manager. A poolof 50 individuals became adept at identi­fying and removing invasive non-natives,collecting native seed for planting in areas

where soil stabilization was necessary,constructing trauma blankets, plantingnative materials and of course picking uplitter. Invasive seedling and sapling re­moval was accelerated by the discovery ofthe Weed Wrench, a leverage tool thatcan slip root systems out of the groundwithout disturbance.

Several other volunteer opportunitiescame our way and Dennis was quick toplug them into his work schedule. Onecall was from a teacher at the ManhattanSchool for Career Development, a publicschool for 16- to 21-year-olds with learn­ing disabilities, who was interested in es­tablishing a parks-related job-training pro­gram. The program has completed itssecond successful year, and several partic-

ipants have been hired to work in thepark. Another call came from the advisorof the Ecology Club at the American Mu­seum of Natural History about how to useCentral Park as their backyard laboratory.Dennis set them to work monitoringwoodland plots.

On another front the Central ParkConservancy, with the Phase I report inhand, began to prospect for donors. Manyof the foundations with an environmentalmission were looking for projects of na­tional significance that would includepublic involvement and education. Withour program just beginning it was a diffi­cult road, particularly for the first grant. Itcame from the Andy Warhol Foundationfor the Visual Arts, which believed in our

budding program and committed to a two­year grant. Later support has come fromthe Norcross Wildlife Foundation and theLila Wallace-Readers Digest Foundation.In addition to this support came the con­servancy fund-raising effort known as theCampaign for the Upper Park (CUP). Es­tablished to implement 50 recommenda­tions from a park use and security taskforce report released after a woman joggerwas beaten and raped by neighborhoodyouth in the Ravine in 1989, CUP sup­plied funds to repave deteriorated path­ways, reset steps, or create roundaboutsand rebuild crumbling pedestrian bridgesin the North Woods so that small main­tenance and security vehicles could reachthe woodland interior. As the circulationsystem and its storm-water drainage sys­tem is upgraded, woodland volunteers fol­low to plant and seed the landscape edges.

Funding also came from the city inthe form of the restoration of two arches,Glenspan and Huddles.tone, which areportals into the woodland stream valleycalled the Ravine. Although severalplanting plans had been completed, theywere done before the inception of thewoodlands program. This was a unique op­portunity to guide a small capital projectusing woodlands principles and to im­prove two degraded areas on the relativehealth map. Starting from scratch, weworked with staff landscape architects andthe board to complete a detailed inven­tory and analysis of each site landscape, ageneric landscape type map, and a lise ofnative plant materials to go with eachtype. The contractor for the project wasthe Central Park Conservancy, whichprovided the masonry crews and supervi­sion to restore the bridges. Work requiringgeneral construction skills such as pavingwas subcontracted but supervised by con­servancy personnel. The woodlands man­ager was the site supervisor for the land­scape restoration, working in tandem withthe general construction supervisor andproject landscape architect. Through thecontract he hired two site workers to im­plement the restoration plan. After thecontract ended the workers were hired bythe conservancy to be the woodlandsmanagement crew. Other Andropogonpartners were brought in to help the crewconstruct adventure trails-a new form of

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pathway for the woods-and to site plantmateriaL Between the small capital pro­jects and three years of consistent man­agement supported by the volunteers, bythe spring of 1993 we were ready to invitethe public back to the Ravine.

Urban Forest Appreciationand Education: PublicPrograms and OutreachThe 1991 Earth Day event was our firstattempt to reach out to the park user. Itwas the first time in recent history thatpark managers and staff had met andtalked to the park public on a one-to-onebasis. Earth Day in 1993 added a new self­guided walking tour brochure of the "Ra­vine in the North Woods" (Quebecordonated printing costs as their Earth Daycontribution). Complimentary copieswere distributed at major park entrancesand to tour participants. The woodlandscrew and summer youth interns continuedto hand out free copies of the brochurelast summer. This past year a new eventwas added to the woodland event sched­ule-the first Annual National TrailsDay---eo-sponsored by Eastern MountainSports and the Conservancy. Althoughthe national message of the day was tocare for our forest and wilderness trails,Central Park's message was enlarged to in­clude the consequences of hiking or bik­ing off-traiL The public was invited to joina volunteer work crew to repair an off­path desire line. Through their suppliers,EMS also donated funds to the woodlandsprogram and is excited about continuingto work with the conservancy in thewoods.

On a day-to-day basis our new am­bassadors for the woodlands are the mem­bers of the woodland crew. Providing amuch-needed presence, they also remind

visitors about rules and pass on informa­tion such as bird sightings and plantnames. Last summer was the second sum­mer the Conservancy's Summer Youth In­tern Program, employing high schoolyouth from the city, has sponsored awoodlands crew. This year the programemphasized work and study. The crew par­ticipated in a wide variety of activitiesfrom site monitoring to providing infor­mation to the park visitor.

Signs are another way to get thewoodland message out to the public. Thispast summer a new environmental signsystem was tested in and around theNorth Woods. The sign system will helpvisitors navigate more easily through thepark and will also for the first time alertthem to general park rules and rules forspecial landscapes such as the woodlands.Ever since prot~ctive fences have been in­stalled, we have been posting temporaryinformational signage on them that in­forms the visitor about the woodlandmanagement and restoration program.

This past fall a new visitor center em­phasizing environmental issues opened tothe public. Educators with input fromDennis, Leslie, and me planned and arenow offering educational programs forschools and the general public that usethe park's woodlands and water bodies asa resource. The center will feature an en­vironmental timeline and provide the Ra­vine walking tour brochure and a newpublic information quarterly newsletter,WOODS WATCH, to the public.

The woodlands program has for mebeen an achievement not only because ofthe results but because it has included thecooperation of virtually every departmentin the Central Park organization. Eachsmall success is the result of this cooper­ation. Although there are many ways tocraft a process that includes public pa~tic­ipation at every level, I am continually

amazed at how well our particular processworks. I am even more delighted when Itake a Saturday hike through the NorthWoods and encounter birders, families,and teenage couples who would havenever used this part of the park five yearsago. Much more work is necessary on allfronts and some of our potentially contro­versial management and restoration deci­sions are still ahead of us. It is just thebeginning.

REFERENCESAndropogon Associates, LTD. 1989. Land­

scape Management & Restoration Program forthe Woodlands of Central Park: Plw.se I. Notpublished. Xeroxes available from the Cen­tral Park Conservancy.

Barlow, Elizabeth et al. 1981. The Central ParkBook. Central Park Task Force, New York.

Cook, C.c. 1959. A Description of the New YorkCentral Park. Benjamin Bloom, Inc., NewYork.'

Cramer, M., J. Heintz and B. Kelly. 1984. Veg­etation in Central Park. Draft. Not pub­lished.

Luttenberg, D., D. Lev, and M. Feller. 1993.Native Species Planting Guide for New YorkCity and Vicinity. Parks & Recreation, NewYork.

Olmsted, F.L., Jr., and T. Kimball. 1973. FortyYears of Landscape Architecture: CentralPark. The MIT Press, Cambridge, Mass.

Rawolle, c., and LA. Pilat. 1857. Catalogue ofPlants gathered in August and September 1857in the ground of the Central Park. M.W. Sie­bert, New York.

Rogers, E.B., M. Cramer, J. Heintz, B. Kelly,and P. Winslow. 1987. Rebuilding CentralPark: A Management and Restoration Plan.The MIT Press, Cambridge, Mass.

Marianne Cramer is a landscape architect and cur­rently the Central Park planner. She Iw.s been inthe trenches helping to guide the multi-milHon­dollar rebuilding effort for the park since 1982 andis responsible for initiating the woodlands manage­ment and restoration program. Her address isCentral Park Administrator's Office, The Arse­nal, Central Park, New York, NY 10021.

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