Central Park has brought smiles and fresh air to countless people from all over the world. With its 800-plus acres of natural splendor, variety of venues, and cosmopolitan spirit, it’s become one of America’s best known parks.
It’s hard to imagine that the area was once an entirely unremarkable piece of land, brimming not with energy and communal spirit, but rocks and swamps. How did it become an iconic piece of landscape architecture and an outdoor haven for millions each year?
The man at the center of it all is the subject of Frederick Law Olmsted: Designing America. It’s an appealing documentary, not only because Olmsted’s life is a fascinating one, but because it prompts viewers to ponder the future of America’s parks. Who might the people be who design them? Will they be more like the parks of today, or something along the lines of Saudi Arabia’s futuristic “the Line”? And what role will parks play in the lives of future generations?
Born in 1822, one of Olmsted’s admirable traits was his combination of prescience and imagination. He entertained questions about the roles of parks in the lives of Americans long before they became what they are for us today—places of solace and refuge, meeting grounds for exercise, socialization, and interaction with nature.
Surprisingly, though, Olmsted wavered for many years before he had any concrete idea about what to do with his life. He’s a figure for which young people (or anyone) can look to as an example of pressing onward, even when dead-ends, false starts, and failures seem to be happening one after the other.
Olmsted’s early days were spent in Hartford, Connecticut, where he developed an exceptionally close relationship with his father (his mother died when he was just three). The elder Olmsted took his boy on peaceful outdoor excursions, where Frederick developed a deep love and appreciation for the outdoors.
In his late teens and early adulthood, he began a winding road on which every stop seemed to yield possibilities but no fruit. He spent stints as a surveyor and deckhand before coming up with the idea that he wanted to experiment in farming. None of these things worked out.
Olmsted’s life continued to swirl rather aimlessly, until a fortuitous opportunity came his way: a role as correspondent for the recently founded New York Times.
Olmsted is of course best known as being the “Father of American Landscape Architecture,” but his influence on American life goes well beyond his scenic achievements. He wrote voluminously on a variety of subjects, including one of America’s darkest periods. The celebrated writer, Adam Gopnick, calls him “one of the most important journalists of the Civil War generation.”
Unfortunately for Olmsted, his time as a journalist came to an end, and a later venture in publishing fell through. Circumstances became exponentially worse when his brother died, leaving his sister-in-law, Mary, widowed with three kids.
Though Olmsted suffered serious bouts of depression throughout his life, his mental constitution (or at least willpower) was evidently strong. He wound up marrying Mary and supporting his new family of five. (He would go on to have three children of his own with Mary, though one tragically died in infancy.)
Despite Olmsted’s myriad stresses and responsibilities at this stage in his life, an opportunity presented itself that would prove monumental for his future. He took a job as superintendent of Central Park, an area the city had recently purchased, with the intention of turning into a park. Olmsted’s description of it is telling: “It was a pestilential spot, filthy, squalid, and disgusting, filled with heaps of rubbish.”
One can imagine that overseeing such a place was hardly the thrill of a lifetime; yet Olmsted’s devotion to the land paid off. When a design competition for the future park was announced, a talented architect named Calvert Vaux approached Olmsted, knowing that he knew the lay of the land. Vaux and Olmsted ultimately won the competition. To say the rest is history, however, would be rash.
Like many future endeavors in Olmsted’s life, his decades-long work on Central Park was replete with disagreements. He butted heads with Andrew Haswell Green, who oversaw the budget. Olmsted absolutely loathed his heavy handedness, writing, “What a systematic small tyranny he exercised over me; it was slow murder.”
As brilliant as Olmsted was, his visionary projects were often met with obstacles. He battled with supervisors, boards, and commissioners as he doggedly fought to make his visions a reality. On some occasions, he failed.
Failure, however, is the last thing that comes to mind when considering the life and works of Olmsted. His genius can be seen throughout America, not least in the northeast, where his plans for an innovative Buffalo parks system and a beautiful Niagara Falls accessible to all, are among his many and varied achievements.
With Designing America, directors Diane Garey and Lawrence R. Hott give viewers an excellent overview of Olmsted’s noteworthy life. His wide-ranging influences on our country are effectively demonstrated, and the major events of his personal and inner-life are nicely expounded.
There’s a lot packed into this relatively short yet effective documentary—and its subject matter is a wonderful stimulus for thinking about the future of America’s outdoors.
Spectatio 