Kyle Hanging Tree
A silhouette of a tree with a shady past hiding in broad daylight.
This tree’s entry in Famous Trees of Texas is short and vague.
Sometime in the late 1840s, cowboys discovered a man hanging from a tree and buried him there, knowing nothing about who he was or why he was hanged.
This barely acknowledged event took place about a quarter mile from the (now historic, still standing log cabin*) home of Colonel Claiborne Kyle. It goes on to say that the Colonel donated 15 acres that became this cemetery, where pioneers and war veterans are buried.
The absence of information is unsettling.
Figuring I would first find the more remote of two trees in Kyle, Texas, then head back toward civilization, I drove to the cemetery. In contrast to another burial ground I explored finding the Turner Oak, this one is less cultivated than the urban, manicured vibe of Greenwood.
A clear indicator was lacking for The Hanging Tree, which was supposedly 200 feet from the entrance. Driving down the gravel road, I hopped out to investigate when I spotted an official historical marker.
Over on the edge of the main cemetery, behind a fence were old, crude and disintegrating grave stones, many of which were hand-carved and not so sturdy to begin with. The 2015 marker explained that this was the burial ground for the slaves of Claiborne Kyle, who numbered up to 29, according to an 1850 slave census.
One of them, Samuel, was possibly his son with, I guess, not his wife, Kitty Kyle, also believed to be buried there.
The deteriorating stones were in a lovely grove of junipers and smaller live oaks, that may have taken over the area when another cemetery was established nearby for the African American community.
I could see where their trunks had been limbed up, likely in the 1990s restoration mentioned on the marker, implying that the whole area had been overgrown and forgotten for a time.
Though this was intriguing, I felt a nagging tension of not yet completing my mission. Plus, it was hot as hell, especially for October, so exploring was less appealing.
Three robust live oaks near the entrance threw me off.
In the 90 degree heat, I ventured on foot to inspect these big specimens, which had the historic look, though I had a feeling they were not the one. Back toward the graveyard entrance was another marker, which pointed out that, though records listed Kyle’s adopted son, Willie Parks as the first one buried here in 1849, “local tradition” claims that the un-named man hanging from the tree was the first. A correction was also expressed on this 1992 marker: only 5 acres were donated by Claiborne Kyle.
Sweaty and befuddled, I squinted around, knowing the tree was somewhere in the vicinity.
Where?
The warm weather was not energizing. Trudging slowly back toward my car, I finally noticed a scraggly tree with an odd horizontal branch and recognized that what I’d been searching for was RIGHT THERE between the big live oaks and the slave cemetery.
Unlike many of the trees I've seen so far, with cascading branches creating an umbrella you can walk underneath, the sparse nature of this one created the effect of a silhouette, particularly in the bright, mid-day light.
It looks as though it is in serious decline. I imagine the healthier specimens that confused me will hold up much better.
Interesting to think about how we revere the dead, and by default, the cemetery ends up being a protected space for plants as well.
Good photography takes patience and attention to light patterns, among numerous other factors. For this project, I made the decision that the best camera is the “one in your hand,” as they say, which would be my iPhone. Documenting my journey, I have never once planned to arrive early morning or at sunset, when light could enhance the images. In fact, planning is not my thing. I prefer spontaneity and I roll with current conditions whenever I show up. Then again, it might be something to consider moving forward.
Harsh mid-day lighting is not flattering.
Almost every day when she exited our common workspace, one of my friends used to say, in her cute, rather high pitched voice, “OK, I’m gonna make like a tree.” I snapped a few more pix, then made like a banana and split to find the Kyle Auction Oak.
*I would have tried to locate the nearby cabin, but I did not learn about it until after I was home
The Hanging Tree is located in the Kyle City Cemetery. A historical marker is at the top of the main cemetery drive and the tree is located about 200 feet to the right of the entrance. A marker "Kyle Hanging Tree" has been installed at the base of tree beside the headstone of Wm. Melton.
29°57'44.6"N 97°53'52.4"W
Kyle Auction Oak
Even after seeing so many trees in a matter of days, I still felt a sense of awe standing next to such a massive living thing.
Similar to the Auction Oaks I saw the day before, this tree provided shade for the first property auction in Kyle, when the town began, roughly 40 years after Austin.
The railroad needed a station town between Austin and San Antonio and Captain Ferguson Kyle (son of Colonel Claiborne Kyle, who donated land for the Kyle Cemetery) put up enough cash to get the town named after him.
Leaving Kyle cemetery, I navigated back toward the center of the town. Having entered the street name for the oak into apple maps (don’t judge! This is before I discovered the Famous Trees of Texas website with Google coordinates), I turned the first corner onto Sledge street as directed. Siri (or whoever) announced aloud: ARRIVED.
I stared at a good sized live oak right there on the corner. Seeing no official marker, I figured it was another decoy and continued down the street spotting the famous tree just a bit down the road.
Sitting on the edge of a older residential lot near the street, this huge oak has two enormous trunks that go in separate directions, similar to the one at the Better Half, but in much better condition. The cement ring around the trunk, shown in the book photo has thankfully been removed.
How did they accomplish that without damaging the roots?
This monster of a tree looks like it would be fun to climb and lounge on the prostrate branches. Being on personal property, I did not feel comfortable clawing around on a historical monument, but I kind of wish I had.
Someone walked out of the house across the street while I was snapping photos and I wondered how often anyone ever stopped to see this tree.
All the time? Never?
Until I met Noska and Doris Ann at Old Baldy, I had never seen anyone else paying attention to the trees I've visited.
Even after seeing so many trees in a matter of days, I still felt a sense of awe standing next to such a massive living thing.
My place in the universe seems clear when gazing up at an amazing old plant that has grown for so many decades, silently watching as things change.
The tree and historical marker are in front of 204 S. Sledge Street, in Kyle.
29°59'16.6"N 97°52'46.9"W
Treaty Oak
The tree that refused to die at the hands of a crazy person, plus another live oak at an Austin bar.
I gotta say, Famous Trees of Texas doesn't have a lot of juicy material. Written in a dry style, like the history textbooks I vaguely remember from 7th grade, even the shortest entries make my eyelids droop.
So when I read about the poisoning incident involving this tree, I was intrigued.
My first edition book (1970) doesn't include this part of the story, which happened in the late 80s, but this tidbit sort of set the stage:
“One of the many legends associated with this tree speaks of Indian maidens who brewed a “love tea” of its tender leaves. If they drank the tea while gazing at a full moon, their lovers would be true forever.”
I guess the maidens just drank this tea on their own, hoping for the best? Whew. I’ve been there.
Anyway, the legend claims the tea also comes in handy if you have an upcoming battle.
So in 1989, this guy, described as troubled and unstable, with a string of arrests, perhaps decided that the legend had failed him. He freaks out over his methadone clinic counselor, to whom his love was apparently unrequited.
Clearly not ok, he somehow obtains gallons of an herbicide called Velpar, made by DuPont.
He proceeds to DUMP it in a circle around the tree with attempt to kill it.
Fuck you, Tree! You ruined my relationship!
I mean, what went through this guy's mind??? Had he actually tried the tender leaf tea thing… or?
A city forester noticed there was a ring of dead grass at the base of the tree and some curled leaves as well.
Hoping it was nothing serious, he ran tests that revealed a severe chemical overdose, enough to kill many trees.
Once this news got out, Austin went full-on hippie over that tree, bringing crystals, cards, poetry and chicken soup to the site in the hopes of saving it. A Dallas psychic came down to hold an “transference of energy” ceremony.
Experts removed several inches of soil and erected a sprinkler system to cool the tree in summer as its leaves dropped. Ross Perot reportedly paid for the effort saying "just send me the bill.” DuPont also threw in some cash as a reward.
Mr. unstable was Paul Stedman Cullen, who told his friend about his ruthless act.
She took the information to authorities who arrested him. During his trial, which received a lot of press, it came out that he collected books about the occult. He spread the herbicide in the shape of a moon, believed to be some kind of ritual to bring harm to his beloved. Another odd detail: he harbored frustration that he had been forced to plant trees during a previous incarceration.
He ended up serving three years of a nine year sentence (that’s it???) and he died in 2001.
This link has video footage of the city forester, the suspect and even Barbara Walters reporting on the incident.
I guess all the love and attention worked.
When we pulled up to the Treaty Oak, it looked healthy despite some large wounds.
A random guy with a crocodile dundee leather hat, vest and a shopping cart full of crap seemed to be just waiting for someone to walk up. As soon as we started reading the marker, he spoke rather loudly to us:
Y'all want to know about the tree?
(Kinda just wanted to experience it, thanks).
We didn't answer and started walking around to the other side of the massive tree canopy.
I can tell you things you WON'T FIND on the INTERNET.
He was almost shouting.
SOME THAT SAY THIS TREE IS OVER 900 YEARS OLD!!!
Definitely shouting there.
We kept walking and he indignantly gave up, pushing his cart away down the sidewalk as though we were complete idiots who just couldn't take the real shit he was laying down.
By far the most majestic of the trees we had seen that day
with a gnarled branching structure creating a deep, dappled shade, this oak completely lived up to the hype. It was surrounded by metal stakes with a chain barrier and a sign reading NO UNAUTHORIZED PRUNING.
We definitely came without tools or plans to prune, and there was no mention of sensitive roots, so we slipped under the chain to get close to the trunk. We marveled at the large wounds. Were they part of the 1989 damage, or had other difficult times proceeded that incident?
Once again this single oak seemed wise with resilience, experience and age.
We wondered: How could anyone harm such an astounding specimen? How could this gigantic old tree affect your love life?
Snapping a few more tree hugging photos like good little instagramers, we decided it was about time to cool off. We realized we might as well pay to hold our parking spot and walked over to a nearby establishment called Better Half Coffee & Cocktails.
Sitting down at the bar, we noticed quite a large tree (!) in the outdoor seating area.
Deeply appreciating the blessed air-conditioning at that particular moment, we sat inside for a spell enjoying a glass of sauvignon blanc before going back out to see.
This large, but slowly disintegrating live oak was supported on all sides with a rusty steel square structure, presumably to keep the whole thing from splitting open. There was a gaping space large enough to stand in, where two big trunks grew in two separate directions and the middle part had likely rotted away.
One staff member walked by and told us it was the oldest oak in North Central Texas? I haven’t verified that, but whether or not it’s the case, we appreciated the lovely bit of closure this created for our day.
Wearing my summer tree visiting shirt - the same one I wore to visit the Fort Worth trees. 😱 Photo by Rachel McCall
Random Bonus!
This country band is called Treaty Oak Revival
Auction Oaks
Musing on nature while checking out trees surrounded by the city.
Leaving the Battle Oaks, we weren't far from the next group of trees, as the crow flies. But the notorious Austin traffic, along with whatever sporting event had the streets filled with Longhorn fans, made the trek a bit slow. Grateful that my Austinite friend was willing to drive, I navigated from the website instructions.
The beginning of the Austin we now take for granted began under the shelter of these oaks. In 1839, a grid of the first city blocks were sold in their shade, the importance of which was obvious on this humid, 92 degree October day.
“Americans treat nature like Victorians treated women: as virgins or whores.”
Sweating under the branches, I was reminded of this quote I heard from landscape designer Thomas Rainer, when I saw him speak in Nacogdoches. He hilariously dubbed Martha Schwartz “the Howard Stern of landscape design.”
In other words, we have great reverence for special places and treat ordinary areas like trash. This site felt like a mixture of both. A mostly ignored shrine to progress — a fraction of what was once wild open space— now surrounded by high rise buildings.
The largest of three impressive trees is roped protectively at the base, with signs requesting we stay off the sensitive roots. The other oaks have a circular deck structure over and around the trunks, forming a seating area to which we didn't get close, since more than a couple of homeless folks had set up camp there.
Rainer continues:
“For us, if nature (OUT THERE) is not some pristine wilderness, then it’s not nature. To focus exclusively on the preserving the last of our “virgin” or “old growth” woods is to lose site of the larger issue right under our noses: the spaces that surround us every day.”
As I have gushed before, Mr. Rainer's writing remains a monumental inspiration to me and I highly recommend delving into his extensive blog and the book he co-authored with Claudia West, Planting in a Post Wild World.
Modern signage recounts the story of the Auction Oaks' significance. Since we had decided to flaunt a parking meter, we didn't spend much time reading and continued on with our journey.
We saw three other groups of trees in Austin that day:
Seiders Oaks
Battle Oaks
Treaty Oak
Battle Oaks
The second group of live oaks I located in Austin were saved from the ax.
Instead of a physical battle with bows, arrows and guns, which gave the not far away Seiders Oaks their notoriety, the Battle Oaks were engaged in a struggle of Man vs. Nature, which, when nature wins, is many times best for man anyway, as it turns out.
Along with seven others listed under a category that the Famous Trees of Texas website entitled "Saved From the Axe." (Don't ask me why the additional *e* on the end???), these trees had advocates who fought for their lives.
Why the quotation marks around “forty acres?”
This group of three live oaks are a small remnant of a larger grove of trees destroyed during the civil war, present on the original 40 acres of the University of Texas when it opened in 1883. They were fixin' (as we say in Texas) to be taken down to build a new biological lab building on the northwest corner of campus.
Students and faculty protested to the man in charge, who preserved them in 1923 by getting the building plan to move down the block. The trees weren't named for the fact that they became embattled, but for the chair of the Faculty Building Committee, Dr. William Battle, to whom folks brought their concerns.
Famous Trees of Texas mentions that he was persuaded specifically by a (jocular?) threat from UT law professor Judge Robert Batts, who promised to “come down to Austin with a shotgun” if need be, which was apparently convincing. This is one of several instances where the FToT uses a tone of pride for the shoot 'em up, tough guy mentality so well associated with the Lone Star State. However, it's rare that one encounters this attitude in connection with saving trees.
Another beautiful grouping of Quercus virginiana, these oak's dark colored bark and long twisting branches form drooping canopies full of ball moss (Tillandsia recurvata). The open space where they reside provides a welcoming entry point to the campus, easily located just a block from Guadalupe Street, which was packed with burnt orange clad pedestrians heading toward the stadium.
The area features a large statue of Barbara Jordan, the first African American elected to the Texas Senate, the first Southern Black woman elected to the U.S. House of Representatives and the first African-American woman to be buried in the Texas State Cemetery.
Her keynote at the Democratic National Convention in 1976 can be heard on the It Was Said podcast.
Her speech is embossed into large granite slabs. I noted this quote from the extensive text:
“I’ve always felt that as long as you are alive, you should be doing something that makes a difference. You don’t have to do big, gigantic things, just do things incrementally that make a difference. ”
Sweltering in the heat with my long time friend, taking photos and admiring the neighboring plantings, we talked about accepting help in adulthood, which is sometimes painfully necessary in times of transition… About how to let go of thinking we are always supposed to do it all alone and how to pay it forward once we're back on our feet. Being around the wise old trees, making progress on my goal and having a little adventure got my mental juices flowing about what we are supposed to be doing with our lives, how to improve, and how to be ok with what is.
We saw three other groups of trees in Austin that day:
Seiders Oaks
Auction Oaks
Treaty Oak
Seiders Oaks
My visit to see trees in Austin begins in a small urban park.
Skimming an article about the writing process, I made a screen shot of the following quote:
“Self doubt can be an ally. This is because it serves as an indicator of aspiration. It reflects love, love of something we dream of doing, and desire, desire to do it. If you find yourself asking yourself and your friends: “Am I really a writer? Am I really an artist?” chances are you are.””
What are the chances that my friend in Austin had this paperback and gifted it to me?
After pushing myself (along with a bundle of self doubt) out to Fort Worth to find the Turner Oak and Traders Oaks, I felt ready to tackle the task of finding another group from the Famous Trees of Texas. Because Austin has a cluster of trees and I have friends in the area, it was the obvious next stop on my adventure.
By this time, I had found the Famous Trees of Texas website, which revealed one of the mysteries I initially imagined discovering one at a time: which trees are still alive? The somewhat dated looking site has the full list of the original trees in the 1st edition with little tombstone icons beside all of the trees that are dead, plus all of the trees that have been designated "famous" in the subsequent editions.
You can look up trees by name, species, historical period or topic. There is also a Texas county map, which you can click and find trees by location, which I used to make my working list for Austin.
My dear friend Rachel, who joined me on my 2015 trek to Peckerwood Gardens, was available to help me locate trees. We met for lunch at the oldest of the small Austin chain called Kerby Lane, since it was near one of the first stops. There's something about having an accomplice along which helps me let go of the exhausting questions that spiral in my mind…
Why am I doing this?
Who wants to read about old trees?
Am I a writer?
Shouldn't I have more expertise in trees to do something like this?
The Seider's Oaks are in a park named after them that is as pleasant as the book promises. Walking the paved paths to the center of the small green space, we easily located the group of four oaks. The book photo depicts a wilder looking space. This is most definitely an urban park, so it's easy to see that a lot has changed in almost 50 years.
A number of these trees represent the beginnings of civilization as we know it, but this came at a cost to those already here living off the land.
Gideon White was one of the first settlers to move his family to the area that became Austin just after construction of the capital city began. A nearby spring on Shoal Creek seemed a good spot to build a log cabin, but a few years later he was attacked and killed by Indians. The historical marker calls it a massacre. The book claims that the marks of a number of arrows and bullets which hit the one of the trees were visible for many years.
Though familiar from general culture, was my first encounter with the obvious bias presented in this book that I thought was just about trees. Discomfort arose from my complete lack of understanding of history, one sided or otherwise.
At least one of his daughters, Louisa Marie, survived and later married Edward Seiders, who ran a grocery and livery business. As Austin grew, they remained among its residents and by the 1870s, Seiders Springs, as it became known, was a recreation spot with bath houses and a dance pavilion.
The trees created lovely shadows all around. One leans over so far as to be nearly horizontal, with some weedy brush growing through what would be the upper canopy sprawled on the ground. Loads of little air plant bundles clung to the limbs, something I rarely see around the Dallas area. They are the epiphytic Tillandsia recurvata, commonly called ball moss.
Without trying, I got a decent shot of the middle tree at a similar angle to the photo in the book, which provides a satisfying puzzle-fit kind of feeling when you see the two images side by side.
There is no denying the power of shade on a hot day in Texas. By late October, you might expect cooler weather, but in these parts, it's not all that unusual to hit 90 degrees, which it did that day. After surviving intense high temperatures the entire summer, the day felt more or less tolerable. We only saw one or two others walking the park and the whole area was quiet and peaceful. As the first stop in a day of tree visits, I was uncertain how long each one might take to locate, so we took our obligatory tree hugger pix and set out to find the Battle Oaks.
Turner Oak
Stumbling around a cemetery in the September heat trying to find my first official Famous Tree.
The Famous Trees of Texas book said the Turner Oak was about 200 yards from the main entrance of the Greenwood Cemetery, which turned out to be quite obvious. Before I could get there, however, I stopped when I spotted two big live oaks on the corner of the grounds in a strip of earth near a parking lot and an interesting church-like building.
This was my first time to locate one on my own.
I later noticed that, when I'm searching for a specific tree, there is sometimes another nearby tree that throws me off at first. I've begun calling these: decoys.
Jumping out of my car to take photos of these lovely decoys, I soon discovered that Greenwood Cemetery is filled with large, old live oaks that look like they were planted in somewhat of an imperfect grid pattern amongst the tombstones.
Still not realizing that I came in the "wrong" entrance, I wandered a while on foot sweltering in the 97 degree September heat, trying to discern if one or the other tree was larger, or how many yards from the entrance this particular one might be.
Is it this one?
Hmmm… maybe this one??
Clearly, my sense of distance is vague. I had no idea if there would be a marker of some kind? or if the right tree was even alive??
I walked out toward one old tree that had a faux bois like cement trash can at the trunk base, made to look like a tree stump. Viewing this from my vehicle, I thought might be a marker of some kind.
Nope.
It reminded me of some of the tombstones I saw in Colorado City (where my grandparents are all buried) that were shaped like pine and cedar trunks.
After appreciating some other specimens, I got back in my car and drove slowly around the little roads of the cemetery, taking in the interesting monuments and trying to note trees with possible significance.
I felt pretty stupid…
when I finally spotted the huge circular median that surrounds the well marked Turner Oak, especially when I saw the triumphant four horse equestrian sculpture that clearly delineates the main entrance nearby.
Ok, yeah, that's probably about 200 yards.
One of the first settlers in Tarrant County, Charles Turner, for whom the oak is named, was a founder of the city of Fort Worth. According to the Famous Trees of Texas, he wisely buried a stash of gold under this tree, to avoid exchanging it for Confederate notes, as per the directive when Texas seceded from the union.
I wonder how much different this tree looked 168 years ago, when he settled on this land. It must have been large enough to serve as an unmistakable landmark, because he eventually came back, dug up the gold and used it to "restore prosperity to the town he helped found."
When I told my sister about visiting, she jokingly asked if I had scratched around at all to see if any gold was left. Dang.
As I understand it, is no longer recommended to pour cement into the wounds of trees, so I was surprised to see that the trunk of this historic tree had a sizable weathered chunk in an older branch scar, which likely happened decades ago. I also wondered if blanketing the median with water-loving St.Augustine turf was a great idea, not to mention the strips of summer annuals a few feet away from the trunk. Most of the other big trees were thriving without much supplemental water.
In the Famous Trees of Texas book photo, (first image on this post) you can see a number of cemetery headstones in the background, as well as a distinct figurine sculpture holding up her hands (in sorrow? worship? ecstasy? I don't know. Her clothing is falling off and a jug of money is dumping out at her feet, so there is a lot going on).
When searching around the live oak decoys, I looked for this identifier, wondering if it was still here and was pleased to see that it remains in good condition, expressively marking the Wallenberg gravesite. On one side of the pedestal, I recognized the opening lines of Psalm 121, one of a few my mother pressured my sister and I to memorize as children…
“LIFT UP THINE EYES UNTO THE HILLS FROM WHENCE COMETH THY STRENGTH”
It was not at all pleasant to be outside this very hot day, so I went back to the car to make an attempt at drawing, using a style I learned in my first art class in high school.
Contour drawings are an exercise in looking and seeing. Done with one continuous line, your eyes stay constantly on the subject, not looking at your paper. There is plenty of opportunity for them to come out looking like a drunken scrawl, which is pretty much what happened. The point of the technique is to force yourself to keep your eyes on your subject, not your drawing.
I can’t believe I’m showing this pitiful drawing
Even just an outline of an extremely complicated subject, such as a live oak would take quite a bit more patience than I had that sweltering afternoon. I gave up and went to find the Traders Oak.
This was my first official tree from the Famous Trees of Texas book.
If you really want to know how I got started, (I know you do) the Presbyterian Oaks were my first attempt at hunting and writing about trees.
Traders Oak
Another live oak in Ft. Worth that I located on the same day as the Turner Oak.
Leaving the lovely Greenwood Cemetery after seeing the Turner Oak, I crossed some train tracks and a part of the West Fork Trinity River heading toward the other famous oak in the area.
In an industrial section north of downtown Fort Worth, not far from the Tarrant County Jail, there are windowless business buildings, a creepy, abandoned(?) mobile home and a group of apartments near a little downcycled plastic playground in the tiny Trader Oaks Park.
This being only the second tree from the book that I found, it was also before I had discovered the Famous Trees of Texas website, which let me see that all of the trees in the book have been accounted for and which trees are still living. At that point I was concerned that I might get to the location and find that the tree was gone.
Along with the official marker, there are several City of Fort Worth benches, so I was comforted to know that the tree still has a historical designation, though it looks a bit like an afterthought on the side of the little park. Famous Trees of Texas said the park is 3 acres, but (keeping in mind my limited spatial grasp) I wonder if it might today be even smaller?
Seeing an opportunity to serve soldiers at the recently established military fort that the city is named for, as well as the nearby native americans that brought in furs, fruits and pecans, Henry Clay Daggett and Archibald Franklin Leonard opened one of the first trading posts in what became Tarrant County under this oak in 1849.
Famous Trees of Texas says it was a favorite off-duty spot for the soldiers. Legendary Trees, which grows and sells seedlings from famous trees(!), claims that whiskey was occasionally available, which was likely a bigger draw than pecans.
This beautiful live oak, also likely surviving without irrigation, appears quite healthy with thick, low hanging branches that stretch out from the trunk center to nearly touch the ground, much lower than the book photo shows. The main trunk splits into two large leaders holding numerous smaller branches in a wide spread. This gives the tree a distinctive look of growth, age and wisdom. There is a large branch scar leaving a bit of a gap in the limbs on what I thought of as the back side, facing away from the playground.
I did a little driving tour of downtown Ft. Worth afterward, then headed home after my first official trek. Visiting these trees was certainly interesting and I was relieved to have made some kind of a start on this project, but it felt like… maybe it because I have been hesitating and building up the idea in my head for so long, that it should've somehow been more monumental.
How long, I wondered, can I (should I?) stand around admiring the organic shapes and reading the marker?
Not all that long, it turns out.
I chuckled to myself recalling that scene from the 80s movie 'Vacation' when Chevy Chase and Beverly D'Angelo see the Grand Canyon -- staring for less than 30 seconds, then ok, let's go!
Presbyterian Burr Oaks
Sort of a preface to the posts about Famous Trees of Texas, these oaks got me off my ass and out the door to get this project started.
I was already talking myself out of it.
I loved the idea of this project, but that's all it was…
An idea.
I thought it might be fun to visit the trees in a book I've had on my shelves for years called The Famous Trees of Texas, which was published in 1970, the year I was born. With my 50th birthday approaching, it seemed like a good time to see what these old trees could tell me. In my journal, I wrote more than once that it was something I would love to do.
But I wasn’t doing it.
Inertia and the fear of looking stupid inflicted a strong downward pull. I realized that keeping the idea something of a secret, I never had to begin. Casually, I began mentioning it to friends.
To make it a reality, I had to take action, but I was already looking for a way out of the effort. It was easier to seek inspiration, reading and listening to podcast interviews with authors and other thinkers. One excellent podcast about self publishing literally shouted at me to stop thinking about writing and stop talking about writing and actually write.
A quote I only partially remembered came to mind…
Inspiration is for amateurs.
I wasn’t sure who said it so I looked it up.
“Inspiration is for amateurs - the rest of us just show up and get to work.
If you wait around for the clouds to part and a bolt of lightening to strike you in the brain, you are not going to make an awful lot of work. All the best ideas come out of the process; they come out of the work itself.
And the belief that things will grow out of the activity itself and that you will — through work — bump into other possibilities and kick open other doors that you would never have dreamt of if you were just sitting around looking for a great ‘art idea.’”
Part of my hesitation, my fear, was this nagging question:
What if I suck?
This quote gave me an answer. You probably do suck, amateur. Now stop worrying about that and get to work.
Staring at the map, I saw that visiting the nearest of the famous trees involved driving to Ft. Worth. Perhaps due to the weight of getting started, this felt completely daunting. Scrounging for something easier, I wasted some time online, but then remembered some oaks I had heard about at Presbyterian Hospital in Dallas. They were saved from construction destruction by an arborist who refused to cut them down. Steve Houser started Arborilogical Services in the mid nineties, around the same time as my boss began his company. Their businesses have collaborated for most of the last two decades.
Our garden manager staff met their team and toured their facility in Wylie, Texas, which is surrounded by water wise gardens full of native perennials and specially chosen trees. The carefully designed building is made with sustainable materials and filled with trophies won in tree climbing contests and mementoes, like the thick slices of tree trunks known as "cookies.”
Steve recounted to us the story of the Presbyterian oaks. He lost his biggest client when he decided against their request to clear the two old burr oaks (Quercus macrocarpa) to make space for a new building.
In protest, he formed the Dallas Historic Tree Coalition (now the Texas Historic Tree Coalition) and took out a two page ad in the Dallas Morning News, noting the irreplaceable benefits of urban forests and explaining the threatened plight of these old trees. His efforts resulted in a redesign which kept a place for the sibling oaks between the new buildings.
To hunt down these trees would be a significantly less challenging excursion. My friend, who works for another arborist company texted me: “Wanna go to the Arboretum?” The idea of a companion bolstered me. “I want you to help me find some trees,” I texted back.
We circled back from the main road behind the first row of buildings and quickly spotted them on the hospital campus. Parking and walking down a driveway near the dumpsters, we observed a huge cooling unit pouring water all along the wall at the top edge of the structure. It felt like maybe we weren't supposed to be wandering around behind the scenes. One friendly, but curious employee eyeballed us, like: what are y’all doing here? He asked if we were taking a tour. Yep.
The feeling of trespassing faded as we neared the patch of earth at the base of the oaks. Walking underneath the canopy near the large trunks, I could immediately feel their energy. This small space between buildings seemed to have a bit more oxygen. The dappled shade provided by their giant leaves almost made the sweaty September day seem cooler.
Alive and well, but tightly wedged between two structures, we noted points where the trees could use strategic pruning to keep from scraping against the buildings. Many good sized lower branches had already been hacked off in favor of those extending upward to the sky. It's interesting to consider the relationship between trees grown closely to each other and to notice the way their branches interact.
The ground was on an incline and at the top of the slope was a sidewalk leading to a cement staircase where we climbed a bit closer to the leaf canopy. Staffers came in and out of the doorway at the top of the stairs, taking little notice of these living things that were saved from the ax.
He mentioned that they might benefit from applications of a growth regulator: Cambistat to inhibit the elongation toward light. That seemed to my organic leaning mind, a bit unnatural, but how much of the stewardship of our urban environment is natural? Though they were saved, they are now at the mercy of more stressful conditions and they no doubt endured hardships during construction.
How much longer will they survive like this?
Was it worth saving them if their lifespan is shortened as a result?
These were the questions we pondered afterward over a drink.
Famous Trees of Texas
A little about the book that started it all.
As my 50th birthday approached in 2020, I decided to start a nerdy, but enjoyable project finding the trees in a book I’ve owned for years, called Famous Trees of Texas. Published in 1970, the year of my birth, this first edition copy is out of print.
Famous Trees of Texas Map (2nd hand ) 1st edition
