“Dear Civilian Conservation Corps…”
(Originally posted on The Science Survey on February 3, 2026)
By Bea Sireci
Dear future self, how was your trip?
I am currently lying on a bed for the last time in five weeks. Tomorrow I will be in Washington, meeting teens from across the country, all who had some reason to want to camp and work eight hours a day – clearing trails, removing invasive species…
Well, I hope it all works out.
My story is part of one that began ninety-two years ago. The roaring twenties was a ghostly era, and you did not have to look far to see it. Around fifteen million people were unemployed. Even the land couldn’t hold onto itself – the Southern Plains of America were running away from the ground, dust pushing over two-and-a-half million people out of their homes.
In March of 1933, Franklin D. Roosevelt told Congress, “I propose to create a civilian conservation corps … this type of work is of definite, practical value, not only through the prevention of great present financial loss, but also as a means of creating future national wealth.”
July 26th, 1934.
Can’t sleep – I’ve been called, actually called to the CCC’s! Just think! Zion National Park! I wonder what it’s like? Boy, talk about luck!
- Belden Lewis
Belden Lewis was called to one of the first CCCs, in Utah’s Zion National Park. I found his diary in a National Park Service account of the CCC. He was one of three million men who ultimately participated in a CCC: “Civilian Conservation Corps.” The original term coined was “Emergency Conservation Work,” and it was indeed mobilized like one. The U.S. Army organized the transportation of hired men to the work camps, where they slept in tents and camped while working on much needed conservation projects.
Men between eighteen and twenty-five, many of whom had no experience in forestry, quickly adapted to the lifestyle of eight-hour work shifts. After all, there were three meals a day and twenty-two dollar checks to send home once a month. The early days were an experiment. Would the men be able to handle the work? Would it finally improve the economy?
Aug 11, 1933.
Same job today. I spent the day on a cross-cut saw, sawing out some large stumps even with the ground. Most strenuous day I’ve spent. Checked in mess-kits this evening.
- Connie Ford McCann
Connie Ford McCann was on a CCC in Pineland, Texas, doing a common job of clearing trails. When massive weathered trees give in to the wind, they can’t be pulled off the trail. The symmetric cross-cut requires two people to go back and forth holding a long saw, to cut up the tree and move it.
On December 11th of 1941, Pearl Harbor was reduced to ashes following the Japanese attack. When the US declared war on Japan and Germany on the US, the CCC became less of a priority and dissolved soon after. Despite this, the legacy of these men lives on in the three billion tree seeds they planted to stabilize eroding land, but most of all, in the conservation corps – like Northwest Youth Corps – that rose from the CCC’s shadow.
Northwest Youth Corps
June 16, 1984.
Today it happened! … Already … teenagers from across Western Oregon are starting to really get some work done. In a few more days we should really be able to show the world that, with the right people, people willing to really give it their best, this concept is no longer a dream. Northwest Youth Corps is here and it is here to stay!
- Art Pope
Art Pope founded Northwest Youth Corps with a vision similar to the CCC: recruiting youth to work in the dirt and grit of the country’s wilderness. At the time, youth unemployment was at a shocking fifty percent. Starting with only $102,000 in 1984, Pope’s vision has now engaged 26,770 youth and young adults, who have contributed to about four-and-a-half million hours of conservation service-work.
Northwest Youth Corps offers community, camping, and backcountry programs for high school students. This past summer, I participated in the Youth Camping Crew, a member of one of the four Washington crews, in which I spent time in the Reiter Foothills, Washington and Lewis & Clark National Park, Oregon.
June 21, 2025.
After waking up at 3 A.M., taking a taxi to JFK airport, arriving in SeaTac airport one “Sleepless in Seattle” and “Greatest Showman” later, I made it to Lake Wenatchee, Washington. I have never seen mountains with snowy peaks, and I smelled a Western Red Cedar for the first time – it smells like vanilla. My crew is from all over the country! Washington, Oregon, California, New Jersey, Massachusetts, Colorado, Wisconsin … and me, New York City.
- Bea Sireci
The following day of this entry, my crew of eight high schoolers and two crew leaders loaded our trailer with a discombobulation of water jugs, food boxes, hard hats, pick mattocks, shovels, tents, tarps, and backpacks. In the dusty parking lot known as base camp, I watched the three other crews do the same. Each crew had a colored hard hat and the grey Northwest Youth Corps uniform, from the outside looking the same. But in reality, everyone was a stranger – from what they called home, their outdoor experiences, and work ethics. As we loaded into our ten-seat van, we left our phones behind and began an adventure. When we returned to base camp in five weeks, we would no longer be strangers.
My Part in It All
In Northwest Washington, neighbored between Glacier Peak and the Skykomish River, Sitka Spruces and snow-peaked mountains scratch the sky. This is Reiter Foothills, a state park. Winding dirt bike trails studded with rough rocks, and a rare appearance of one dusty road full of potholes. The landscape of viridian coniferous trees and purple Fox Glove seems to glow in the presence of the frequent visitor known as fog. Right outside of the park are sloping quarries, abandoned and made into the perfect spot for a crew of workers.
June 23, 2025.
First day of work. I got out of my warm sleeping bag at 6 A.M. and made a breakfast of oatmeal, before rushing to have my hard hat and boots on by 7 A.M. We got to the work site, an eroded dirt bike trail that we will level with stones and mixing concrete. Had some interesting conversations – people have such fascinating stories. The purified creek water is not the tastiest.
- Bea Sireci
It did not take long for the routine to become second-nature. Every morning, like clockwork, I would become slowly aware of the rustling of people climbing out of their tents. I would jump awake with a jolt of adrenaline, scrambling into the clothes I had been wearing the whole week: a gray button-up Northwest Youth Corps shirt, jeans, and a belt.
June 25, 2025.
My chore was dinner, and I made pesto pasta. A crew leader saw a mountain lion nearby.
- Bea Sireci
Outside of the eight-hour workday each crew member had a chore: purifying water from the creek, making dinner, boiling water in the morning, organizing cans and food, cleaning the trailer, and setting out lunch food for people to pack for the next day. After dinner each night, we would have “bump-line,” a four-step system of cleaning dishes.
Aug 7, 1933.
Had to work today – and was it terrible? Gosh [yes] but I was tired & sleepy.
- Connie Ford McCann
Following a long day of carrying sixty-pound bags of concrete, mixing it, and using it with rocks to level the trail, I was exhausted just like McCann ninety-two years before. There were times – typically right before lunch break – when the question came into my head, “Why am I doing this?” Rightfully, I could be making more money if I just stayed home and worked behind the deli counter.
July 11th, 2025.
I am in my tent right now, finally! Sawed down Scotch Broom trees all day. Tomorrow we get our first showers in a week.
- Bea Sireci
It was in the little moments that I remembered. Like when I woke up and heard birds chirping, and would see golden light on the eastern horizon dancing between the shadows of trees bigger than my wingspan. Or when I looked up the trail, now leveled and resistant to erosion, and felt proud of the work I was doing. A lot of the time it was the hours of funny and touching conversations I had, beginning to understand the kaleidoscope of where people came from. As the sunlight eased back down the western horizon, I felt strangely happy being dirty and tired after a long day of work, perhaps because my stomach was now full of warm food, but more likely because I felt lucky.
Following the first week in Washington, we left the site the same as we arrived, and drove five hours to Astoria, Oregon. Tall grasses, elk, deer, and Ponderosa Pines speckled the vast landscape. I quickly noticed the salty scent of the Pacific Ocean, and the roads were marked with “ENTERING Tsunami Zone” signs – something I had never seen in New York City. Partnering with Lewis and Clark National Park, we camped on the Yeon Property for four weeks.
July 4th, 2025
Our last day of work for our first week in Astoria, Oregon! I can’t believe that two weeks have passed already since coming out here, and I’m loving it. The work is super important and gratifying, I’m making amazing friends, and getting to see the beautiful Pacific Northwest!
Today the crew started early sawing and lopping the thickets of Scotch Broom, finding Banana slugs and snails along the way.
After work, we headed into town for laundry and showers (BLESS! BLESS! BLESS!), and returned to camp for chores and dinner of catch-all stir-fry and yellow rice. For most of the day it hadn’t occurred to me that it was the Fourth of July, but the crackle of fireworks from the Oregon shore reminded us. I will never forget this amazing day!
- Nicholas Bittner
I never expected to imagine a stringy-legume-bush when I closed my eyes, but that is what it began to feel like after two weeks working on Scotch Broom removal. Our project lead told us the windy tale of how this plant came to be. Prior to Lewis and Clark’s expedition in the Pacific Northwest, Oregon was thriving with indigenous communities, who lived surrounded by a native prairie. Not long after the word of ‘empty’ land spread, Americans began migrating and settling in Oregon. The establishment of farmlands stripped the ground of roots that stabilized it, causing massive sand dunes. In Astoria, Oregon, the community made a push to solve this dangerous issue, whatever way possible. The answer? A plant that grew fast, made big roots, could handle and endure stormy weather. In other words: Scotch Broom. In a mass effort, Scotch Broom was planted, solving the issue of sand dunes but making the history of the native indigenous prairie harder to preserve. That is why, as an effort of Lewis & Clark National Park, my crew worked to remove the Scotch Broom to allow larger trees and native species to thrive, regaining its lost territory.
July 8th, 2025
Just another day at work. Kheon and I finally pulled out the god forsaken pole in the plant nursery, but then after that the work just dragged on.
- Eden Hahn
Our work in Oregon, as my two crewmates described, was filled with a myriad of projects. Ultimately, we cleared eight acres of Scotch Broom, restored a tidal wetland, and decommissioned a native plant nursery to be relocated.
The Legacy Lives On
Amongst the three million white men in the CCC, 200,000 African American men and 80,000 indigenous men participated in the program. Although Eleanor Roosevelt’s press for a women’s CCC, as she referred to as a “She-She-She,” never happened, those dreams of involving more people in conservation work have manifested today.
One of the most profound things about joining Northwest Youth Corps is the fact that it is not something you pay for – it is something you are paid for. This attracts people from all economic backgrounds, seeking a meaningful way to earn money. For me, it granted me the opportunity to go to the West Coast for the first time, surrounded by wilderness for five weeks. Although the program was not able to run this year, Northwest Youth Corps typically has an LGBTQ+ Rainbow Crew.
Trump’s administration has proposed a 2026 budget plan that threatens this opportunity for young people through a four billion cut to national parks, forests, and wildlife areas – all which detriment services like conservation corps. The program is more than a budget.
By the time I returned to base camp, all the crews were reunited with stories of where they had been. Crews partnered with many organizations, such as Backcountry Horsemen of Washington, Washington Department of Natural Resources, Yacolt Burn State Forest, and Okanagan-Wenatchee National Forest. Crews did a range of work – from trail work and brushing to invasive plant removal. Through scattered conversations, I often hear a narrative that my generation is phone-dependent and less-adventurous. Yet I saw thirty teenagers, once strangers, who learned to thrive while living and working together. This is the magic of Northwest Youth Corps.
The other day, I reopened the weathered pages of my journal. I imagined I could smell Sitka Spruces and Ponderosa Pines as I had back in July. Although a whole day could be summed into a five by five inch page, behind each word was a trove of both difficult and transformative moments. The diaries of Connie Ford McCann and Harold Wood tell their own story, but little phrases transcend time. Reading their words, ninety-two years and counting, I am transported back to the fresh feeling of independence and community being on a crew provides.
When I first came home from the airport, I began opening up the letter I had left neatly sealed on my bed five weeks before. It was then I realized I needed to reply – not to my past-self anxious for the details of the trip – but where it all began.
July 26, 2025.
Dear CCC,
I am not living in the Great Depression like Harold Wood and Connie Ford McCann, when joining a CCC meant a rare opportunity to make money and perhaps live decently. But thank you for the trees you planted, and the legacy you left that allowed me to have a trip of a lifetime. Amidst the hustle and bustle of New York City, I still have dirt in my nail beds and picture pine trees when I close my eyes.
As the sunlight eased back down the western horizon, I felt strangely happy being dirty and tired after a long day of work, perhaps because my stomach was now full of warm food, but more likely because I felt lucky.