In 1936 the civilian conservation corps, founded to provide jobs for laid-off Depression-era workers, finished constructing a vast open-air theater in Mount Tamalpais State Park just north of San Francisco. Crews from the corps had been dispatched to parks across the country to build lodges, cabins, and picnic areas-or, in this case, to install 5,000 terraced stone seats in a natural amphitheater. Like most successful public spaces, the outdoor theater proved both ennobling and useful. More than seven decades later, busloads of visitors arrive on summer weekends to recline on blankets beneath the trees and watch the season's Mountain Play. In the foreground is Annie or Fiddler on the Roof and in the background the glittering San Francisco Bay. But supervising ranger Laura Wong no longer sees the splendor. She sees overgrown pines and madrones she can't afford to thin. "Half those trees should be removed," Wong says. "Half. That's the hard truth and it keeps me up at night." It's not the only reason she's losing sleep. Wong also lacks the cash to adequately patrol the busy campgrounds of nearby Samuel P. Taylor State Park, a redwood-shaded refuge from the swelter of summer. "We're getting ground down," Wong says. "By the time people understand what's happened at our parks, it will be too late." Alas, she's in good, if demoralized, company. "It's very, very tough out there right now," says Philip McKnelly, executive director of the National Association of State Park Directors. Throughout the West, tax revenue shortfalls have brutally squeezed the region's 1,600 state parks. Cherished for their beauty and history, they range from Hearst Castle on California's Central Coast to Alaska's 1.6-million-acre Wood-Tikchik wilderness. Some, such as Bear Lake on the Utah-Idaho border, are famous among water-skiers; others, including Arizona's Tombstone Courthouse, draw history buffs. All are under stress. Nevada may turn some year-round parks seasonal, while Idaho has toyed with closures. Most famously, Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger last year proposed shutting 48 California state parks and beaches. Although that particular plan fizzled, the news on the state's budget keeps getting worse. The gates are still open at places such as Sutter's Fort-a historic Central Valley settlement-but there isn't enough money to repair the site's timeworn 21/2-foot-thick adobe walls. The National Trust for Historic Preservation put California's park system on its 2008 most endangered list. "Without proper care, historic buildings and landscapes will deteriorate to a point where restoration may no longer be feasible," said President Richard Moe. Cruelly, the weak economy now ravaging the parks is driving more vacationers their way. State park visits nationwide rose by 18 million in 2008. "To go to a national park or Disneyland requires travel and money," McKnelly says, "but most people can get to a state park within 100 miles." Meanwhile, fewer staffers are stocking bathrooms and collecting trash. "It's falling apart," says Wong. "Everything feels overwhelming. Maybe I should move to Oregon." Maybe she should. Oregon is one state whose parks seem poised to weather the economic crisis with a modicum of grace. And it's all about how the bills are paid. Copyright 2009 by the California State Automobile Association; excerpt reprinted by permission from VIA magazine.