The first time I saw a picture of the swimming pool in front of the Zion Lodge, I couldn't believe it. I have been to Zion National Park at least annually for nearly forty years, and despite the crowds, the park is still a symbol to me (and millions more) of natural wonder and wilderness solitude. The image of that swimming pool, which was decommissioned and buried in the 1970s, hinted at a secret past—a hidden side to the national park experience that has largely disappeared, one that emphasized convenience, culture, and collective entertainment.Singaway opens the door to that hidden history. In its large-format, richly illustrated pages, the book traces the human experience at Zion, Bryce Canyon, Cedar Breaks, and the North Rim of Grand Canyon as seen through the eyes of Utah Parks Company employees. For five decades, the UPC (a subsidiary of the Union Pacific Railroad) provided a luxurious, all-inclusive vacation to well-healed vacationers, catering to their every need and want from the moment they stepped off the train in dusty Lund, Utah, and traveled to the lavish El Escalante Hotel in Cedar City, and all along the way during their “grand circle tour.” This was not camping; it was a “glamorous adventure” featuring elegant dinners with formal dress, live bands, and fine china (xxi).The book opens with an introductory essay giving background to railroad boosterism, national parks concessions, and UPC employment opportunities, which ranged from cooks and housekeepers to waitstaff and “gearjammers,” the tour bus drivers who also functioned as in-transit entertainers. Over its fifty-year life span, the UPC “employed more than 40,000 young men and young women ages 16 to 26, mostly college students” (v). Many of these employees came from nearby southern Utah communities, of course, but the company recruited from across the nation, giving employees exposure to new people and lifestyles. Though the photographs clearly show a lack of racial diversity among the staff, more than one interviewee pointed out opportunities they had to overcome prejudice, and another stated that “the Parks Company was at the forefront of hiring people with disabilities” in the 1950s and 1960s (144). Regardless of what an employees’ day job was, he or she often participated in entertaining the visiting “dudes,” including evening programs and the “singaways,” where the whole staff gathered in front of the lodge to sing humorous and nostalgia-inducing songs as the tour buses left for the next park.The majority of the text comprises excerpts from oral histories and memoirs by former employees. Each chapter focuses on a different aspect of the employee experience, from recruiting and job duties to dorm life and social activities. Two of my favorite sections were “Dude Stories,” filled with tales of the clueless things city folk say and do in national parks, and “Pranks and Practical Jokes,” which will remind many readers of their own teenage years. The topical arrangement was the best choice for the book, though a downside is that quotes and sections are sometimes repetitive, and it is hard to follow how things changed over the decades since excerpts are not arranged chronologically.What stand out are the funny and poignant stories, heartwarming instances of summer romances blossoming into decades of marriage, and reflections on growing up and learning the first lessons of adulthood. The illustrations are an absolute delight, and every time I looked for a photograph of something described in an interview, there was a photograph. All the material comes from the extensive Utah Parks Company Collection at SUU's Sherratt Library, and much of that collection is digitized and available online.This book will certainly appeal to anyone who worked for the UPC or took the grand circle tour, but beyond that, it is a memorable and detailed look at a unique place and time in Utah history. Readers gain insights into prices, technology, transportation, and ways of life in mid-twentieth-century southern Utah, and there are fascinating asides about local history, such as the pumphouse at Roaring Springs that for decades provided electricity and fresh water to the North Rim Lodge, 3,800 feet above. Along the way there are hints at the larger stories of these decades, from World War II to the downwind effects of nuclear testing.
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Jul 1, 2024
John Lee 
Open Access