By Andy Radtke
To say A Sand County Almanac is 75 years old is not to tell the whole story. Many of the essays included in Aldo Leopold’s book were composed (and published) years before, while the majority (24 out of 41 essays) were written specifically for the Almanac.
In fact, a seven-year negotiation, from 1941 to 1948—between Leopold and a handful of publishers, and within Leopold’s own mind—ultimately shaped the final content of A Sand County Almanac. Facing significant pressure from publishers to tamp down the “ecological, philosophical” aspects and focus on a single thread of nature observations, Leopold held firm in his conviction that he couldn’t say what he wanted to say without both in strong measure. This conviction cost him at least one publishing contract. But it rewarded us all with a beautiful work of art, a diamond of science, and a world-altering call for a land ethic.
In fairness, each publishing house (Knopf, MacMillan, Oxford University Press, William Sloan Associates, and University of Minnesota Press) were drawn to the high quality—the artfulness—of Leopold’s language and told him so repeatedly.
But the publishers in large, with the exception of Oxford University Press, had not yet grasped the new ethical ground Leopold exorted. As it turned out, they were correct in their assertion that the general public would not grasp it either, at least not until they all caught up in the early 1970s.
In that light we reread the preserved letters—the extensive back-and-forth between potential publishers and Leopold, new prospective publishers along the way, Leopold’s confidants like Albert Hochbaum, son Luna Leopold, eventual illustrator Charles Schwartz—and discover an epic story.
From the first notion to publish a “nature” book, coming not from Leopold, but from an editor at Knopf in New York, through years of struggle to finish and arrange the work, the distractions of teaching, and fits and starts caused by WWII, to the agreement-to-publish from Oxford University Press exactly one week before Aldo’s sudden death, we encounter the human behind the writing. In a few letters on the heels of the tragedy, one in particular from Albert Hochbaum to Joe Hickey, we see shock, grief, and, finally, heartbreaking recognition of Leopold’s achievement.
To give you a taste, we post a few samples below. Raw-history buffs can find the whole collection of 150 letters and more here in the UW-Madison Leopold Archives.