farmers, ranchers—the rich would have no means to dominaternus… . Our dream is to escape the hierarchical order; neither tornserve nor to rule.” And so the preservation of what remains ofrnthe frontier and even, if we are lucky, the recovery of some ofrnwhat has been lost, demands the reinvigoration and spread ofrnclassic Western populist attitudes and ideas, engendered andrnargued by the Populist parties in the post-Civil War era, and finallyrncoopted and swept aside by the Progressive Movementrnpresenting itself as the real thing, though in fact it was its antithesis:rna populism for the overrich, the overeducated, the genteellyrnderacinated, the politely godless, and the hubristic. Thernfuture of the frontier depends not on curbing the governmentrnin Washington alone, but the corporate boards of Canadianrncompanies who own and direct the largest mining projects currentlyrnoperating in or planned for the American West, andrnthose in Japan, which are rapidly buying up and buying out asrnmany large-scale ranches as they can get their hands on. Powerrnis power, whether economic or governmental, since both kindsrnof power are political, and politics—as water used to in thernWest before the federals created their Steven Spielberg systemrnof dams, pumps, and pipelines through the region—seeks itsrnown level.rnOnce the Western states, acting in concert or as a federation,rnhave made discernible progress in regaining the political andrnsocial freedoms that the federal politicians either wrested fromrnthem or sweet-talked them into surrendering, the West willrnfind itself in a position to proselytize the other American statesrnand regions, by argument and by example, for the purpose ofrnpersuading them likewise to recapture the political, economic,rnand social fluidity and simplicity of republican times. Obviously,rnRhode Island cannot expand its territory to equal that ofrnMontana, and the population of New York City cannot independentlyrnraise and butcher its own food, though New Yorkersrnare becoming increasingly adept at slaughtering what they dornnot eat. Every part of the United States began as a frontier societyrnand evolved into something else. Only in the West, perhaps,rnis the frontier the fmal, which is to say the natural and bestrnform, because of its spaciousness, its harshness, and—especiallyrn—its lack of that most basic resource: water. But this does notrnmean that other regions, having left the frontier stage long ago,rnhave not developed beyond the form that is natural and appropriaternto them, and to which in their own best interests they owernit to themselves to return. We tend to think that progressrnmeans taking a thing as far as you can carry it, and of the frontierrnas only a very small beginning in pursuit of something farrngreater, while in fact it may and should be its own end. Andrnwhile it is indeed impossible to turn back the clock, it is veryrnpossible to renovate historically the house that encompasses thernclock. In fact, it is being done every day.rnAmerica, it is said, has no traditions (except for unlimitedrnimmigration, of course, which former Governor RichardrnLamm of Colorado correctly predicts will destroy the West unlessrnit is drastically curtailed): only the prospect of endlessrnchange, perennial flux, continuous adaptation, all of them directingrnus in a predetermined trajectory from which we cannotrn—and should not—hope to deviate. The truth is, we havernone great and overriding tradition: the frontier, which led andrnshaped the history and form of America from 1607 until 1890,rnnearly three-quarters of our history as a people. It is the last 105rnyears, not the 283 preceding them, that have witnessed the betrayalrnof the American ideals that our increasingly un-Americanrnpoliticians claim to be defending—against Americans! <€>rnOakrnby John Nixon, fi.rnIgnore that stylish woodrnThe social climber spokernOf lovingly. For good,rnStout character, choose oak.rnToughly as when it grewrnStraight in the green outdoors.rnOak will be walls for yournAnd furniture and floors.rnIt makes a cordial blazernWhenever cold wind moans—rnOr, after all your days,rnA box to hold your bones.rnAUGUST 1995/21rnrnrn