Picture this: The heart of America's treasured historical sites slammed shut by a government showdown, leaving history buffs and nature lovers out in the cold—but hey, some beacons of hope are still shining bright. Ever wondered how a political standoff can turn a peaceful park visit into an unexpected adventure? Let's dive into the real-world impacts of the recent shutdown on iconic spots like Sagamore Hill and Fire Island, and why not everything's as bleak as it seems.
Just ten days into the federal government shutdown, Sagamore Hill National Historic Site—home to the beloved Theodore Roosevelt—presented a mixed bag for visitors. The historic house glowed with lights on, a nod to its significance, but the doors remained firmly locked, with no entry allowed. Even some of the temporary restrooms down the hill were secured, and there wasn't a single docent or park ranger in sight to guide or greet anyone. This was no accident; it's all part of a carefully laid-out National Park Service (NPS) contingency plan from September, designed to handle such disruptions by limiting access to areas normally closed off-hours.
Over at Fire Island National Seashore, the story took a different twist. Crowds of eager explorers ascended the towering lighthouse steps, which stayed open thanks to the dedicated efforts of the nonprofit Fire Island Lighthouse Preservation Society—not the NPS. Yet, calls to the William Floyd Estate, another seashore site in Mastic Beach, went unanswered, highlighting how the shutdown's reach varied depending on who's running the show.
Across the U.S., more than a quarter of national parks—often those rich in history like Sagamore Hill—have flung their gates shut to the public. Under the NPS plan, this means locking up any facility or area that's typically secured outside business hours. Websites? Not updated. Trash collection? On hold. Restrooms? No cleaning crew. Roads? Maintenance postponed. But don't worry, essential services like law enforcement and border protection keep rolling, ensuring safety remains a priority.
And this is the part most people miss: How nonprofits are stepping in to fill the gaps, turning potential disasters into opportunities for community-driven preservation.
Newsday's investigation uncovered some key takeaways:
- The shutdown has scaled back operations at Sagamore Hill National Historic Site, a key part of the NPS network.
- At Sagamore, the Theodore Roosevelt Home, Old Orchard Museum & Visitor Center, and park bookstore are off-limits, though folks can still stroll the beautiful grounds freely.
- Meanwhile, the Fire Island Lighthouse, managed by an independent nonprofit, keeps welcoming visitors despite the turmoil.
Despite these challenges, about a dozen cars dotted the Sagamore parking lot on a recent Friday morning. Visitors like Paul and Carolyn Rezza from Seaford found solace in the outdoor charm. They rocked on chairs overlooking the picturesque meadows where Roosevelt's kids once galloped on ponies. Paul expressed his frustration with the politicians behind the shutdown, saying, "They don’t care about a single person they represent. It’s all about them." Yet, he wasn't letting it ruin the day. "I’m enjoying the day. It’s so peaceful. The colors are starting to change," he added. For beginners exploring U.S. history, Sagamore Hill isn't just a house—it's where Roosevelt, our 26th president, lived and worked, making decisions that shaped conservation efforts and progressive reforms.
Carolyn, whose family story includes her grandfather as a toddler shaking Roosevelt's hand, embraced the serenity. "I could sit here for hours," she shared. "I always say to Paul, ‘If we could bottle this North Shore air.’" It's moments like these that remind us why these sites matter: they connect us to America's past in tangible, feel-good ways.
History enthusiasts Kevin and Debbie Harwell traveled five hours from State College, Pennsylvania, in their pandemic-purchased travel trailer, making this their third try at touring Roosevelt's home. Debbie noted, "Then the shutdown happened. We’re not meant to go in the house." The closure of these "hallowed ground" parks left her unsettled, and Kevin echoed deeper concerns: "Our laws and our government systems are being challenged in ways they haven’t been challenged before. I don’t know what the outcome is going to be. I’m hopeful that our better angels prevail." For newcomers to national parks, think of them as living museums—places like Yellowstone or Yosemite preserve natural wonders and historical narratives, but shutdowns expose vulnerabilities in funding and management.
Nearby, Katherine Greco hoped to show her husband Zac the presidential home; she's from Bayville and flew in from Dallas. "I grew up coming here. My dad died when I was 16, and this was his favorite place," she recalled. They once enjoyed ice cream from Gooseberry Grove in Oyster Bay, sitting on those rocking chairs while spotting wild turkeys. Though disappointed, they adapted by using a free app for a self-guided tour—proving that technology can bridge some gaps in these situations.
At the Fire Island Lighthouse, Jonathan Gaare, executive director of the Preservation Society from Babylon, faced his own hurdles. The shutdown announcement coincided with plans for their annual highlight, the Keeper’s Craft Tasting—a beer- and wine-tasting fundraiser. "It will go on as planned Saturday, but 'we were sweating,'" Gaare said, worried about broader effects. His nonprofit funds lighthouse upkeep, including the crucial navigation beacon, historical archiving, and visitor education. "They’re worrying about their park, their backyard," he noted of concerned visitors. "They want the boardwalk to be maintained, the bathrooms to be maintained." As a former park ranger, Gaare empathized with federal workers: "I feel for the federal employees who dedicated their careers to public service, especially to the rangers here who dedicated their careers to protecting this land for Long Islanders. We’re so urban—these little nuggets of wildlands, they definitely need to be protected."
But here's where it gets controversial: Is relying on nonprofits like the Preservation Society a sustainable fix for national treasures, or does it unfairly shift the burden from government to volunteers? Critics might argue that government shutdowns expose flaws in political systems, forcing communities to pick up the slack—while others say it highlights the resilience of grassroots efforts.
What do you think? Should taxpayers foot the bill for all parks, or is private involvement a commendable alternative? Do you agree that these shutdowns test our democratic foundations, or are they just temporary hiccups? Share your thoughts in the comments—we'd love to hear if you've experienced similar situations at other sites!
