The past hangs on in Missouri’s timber, stone and springs, survives in lodges built from native rock, fire towers still standing above the Ozarks and old entrance gates made to thus far stand forever. Yet, nearly a century later, many pass those structures without realizing they were created during the country's toughest economic era by nomadic young men.
For Richard McGee of West Plains, that realization began while researching historic mills.
The author of “The Mills and Springs of the Ozarks: Places and History of the Mill Era” and “The Civilian Conservation Corps in Missouri: A Legacy Written on the Land” said his newer book grew out of discoveries he made while tracing the history of Missouri’s remaining mill sites.
“When I did this book,” McGee said, pointing to a copy of his earlier work, “I found that Alley Mill and Montauk Mill were both restored in the 1930s by the CCC.”
That discovery shifted the direction of his research.
“I realized that Alley Mill more than likely wouldn’t be standing today had it not been for the CCC,” McGee said.
What began as a study of mills widened into a broader look at one of the most far-reaching public works programs in U.S. history. Published in March and available on Amazon, “The Civilian Conservation Corps in Missouri” examines the camps, construction projects and forest work carried out during the Great Depression, from state parks and ranger stations to fire towers, nurseries and abandoned camps now hidden in the woods.
“I was surprised that there wasn’t a book,” McGee said. “In most states, somebody’s done either a large research project or a book on CCC activities in that state, and there was none in Missouri.”
The federal program came together rapidly in response to a national crisis. President Franklin D. Roosevelt took office in March 1933, and within weeks, Congress passed legislation creating the CCC.
“It was like,” McGee said, snapping his fingers, “really quick.”
The urgency reflected the depth of the Great Depression, and McGee said his research deepened his own understanding of just how desperate the era was for local families.
“I didn’t realize how poor people were,” he said. “It was pretty desperate times. People were hungry.”
CCC recruits earned about $30 a month, with $25 of the paycheck automatically sent home to their families. Many young men arrived undernourished, and early camp records noted immediate weight gains for some once they joined the ranks, McGee said.
“For a lot of the boys, the money wasn’t everything,” McGee said. “It was, we’re going to get to eat.”
The program faced political friction early on. Labor unions initially opposed the initiative, fearing a influx of government-backed workers would depress wages in a fragile economy. McGee said Roosevelt ultimately negotiated an understanding with labor leaders by structuring the program entirely around rural conservation work rather than urban labor competition.
That compromise placed camps across Missouri’s depleted forests and newly acquired state park lands. Much of southern Missouri had already been heavily logged by the time the CCC arrived, with entire regions of the Ozarks stripped of mature timber by the 1920s.
“If you go out west of West Plains in 1920, you’re going to see a very different landscape,” McGee said.
He pointed to commercial operations such as the Union Cooperage Company, which harvested vast stretches of regional timber for barrel and keg production before steel drums became common. Once the timber was gone, the company walked away from the bare land.
The U.S. Forest Service later acquired large portions of those clear-cut tracts and deployed CCC crews to replant forests, grade roads, run telephone lines and construct fire towers across remote terrain.
“They restored the forests,” McGee said.
The camps were structured like small military communities. Army officers handled discipline and camp administration, while the Forest Service directed the field work.
But, McGee said, the program also reflected the racial segregation of the era. CCC camps were strictly segregated, and Missouri housed several all-Black units. McGee cited Washington State Park as one example during the program’s early years.
“There was an all-Black company there,” McGee said. “The Black companies were completely segregated.”
Consistent with national policies, these units were led by white Army officers. Local reactions from surrounding rural communities were sometimes hostile when Black companies were first assigned to nearby camps.
“The community did not want them,” McGee said, noting that he chose to include those tense accounts to maintain historical accuracy. “I try to write about what happened. Take my politics out of it, just what happened.”
Despite early tensions in some areas, the camps eventually became part of local economies and social life. Discipline issues were relatively rare, McGee said, and many communities welcomed the economic boost and infrastructure progress.
The CCC also left behind a lasting human legacy; some enrollees married local women and remained in the communities where they were stationed, while others carried their camp skills directly into military service during World War II.
“The boys of the CCC became the men of Iwo Jima,” McGee said.
McGee’s interest in the project is also personal. His great-uncle, Raymond Goodin, served in a Springfield-based CCC unit at the Dickerson Park Zoo before transitioning into active military service in Alaska during World War II.
Today, the CCC’s handiwork remains highly visible across Missouri. McGee named Big Spring, Sam A. Baker, Roaring River, Bennett Spring and Lake of the Ozarks State Park as premier spots where CCC construction remains central to the visitor experience.
“This is the entry to Sam A. Baker State Park,” McGee said, pointing to his own photograph on the book's cover. “I remember just this entrance gate and how neat it is.”
He described the rustic architectural style — using native stone and heavy timber — as a defining characteristic of Missouri’s park system, designed to blend into the natural landscape rather than dominate it.
Beyond state parks, remnants of the work are scattered throughout the backcountry.
"The CCC did not build all of the remaining fire towers in Missouri," McGee noted. "Many were built after the CCC was discontinued. ‘Remembering Missouri's Lookout Towers’ by Bob Frakes is an excellent resource on this topic."
With summer approaching, McGee said state parks offer the clearest way for the public to experience this history firsthand, though he cautions against looking for abandoned, unmapped campsites until cooler weather arrives due to the risks associated with heat exposure, insects and difficult terrain.
“If someone wants to see the work of the CCC, the best way is to visit these parks,” McGee said. “They are literally hiding in plain sight.”
McGee pointed to Camp 2728 near Meramec State Park in Franklin County, about an hour southwest of St. Louis. Interpretive signage posted helps visitors understand what once stood there.
