Some Historic Trees

Part 1

Some Historic Trees

One of a historical series, this pamphlet is published under the direction of the governing Boards of the Public Library of Fort Wayne and Allen County.

BOARD OF TRUSTEES OF THE SCHOOL CITY OF FORT WAYNE

B.F. Geyer, President Joseph E. Kramer, Secretary W. Page Yarnelle, Treasurer Mrs. Sadie Fulk Roehrs Willard Shambaugh

PUBLIC LIBRARY BOARD FOR ALLEN COUNTY

The members of this Board include the members of the Board of Trustees of the School City of Fort Wayne (with the same officers) together with the following citizens chosen from Allen County outside the corporate City of Fort Wayne:

James E. Graham Arthur Nieneier Mrs. Glenn Henderson Mrs. Charles Reynolds

FOREWORD

From earliest times, trees have served and interested man. Primitive man found trees to be a source of food, fuel, clothing, and building material. In the dim, distant past certain trees were considered sacred as the habitat of woodland deities. Today, some giants of the forest are known for their great age and as landmarks; they are often associated with historical events.

The first portion of this pamphlet was published in the FORT WAYNE SENTINEL on July 11, 1891, and describes historic trees of the Colonial and Revolutionary periods. Grammar, spelling, and punctuation have been changed to correspond with current usage. The second part was written by the Library Staff; stories of notable trees of the Old Northwest are related.

The Boards and the Staff of the Public Library of Fort Wayne and Allen County present this publication in the hope that it will prove entertaining and informative to citizens of the Summit City.

There has been no Methuselah since the flood. Man seldom lives longer than one hundred years. Only the elephant and the tortoise feebly imitate the longevity of the antediluvians. But there are living things that outlive them all—things far more stately than the tallest man or largest quadruped—living things that were companions of the gray beards before the flood and lived to bless their grandchildren.

The only living links between us and the remote past are trees—grand old trees with clustering memories like trailing vines. In the shadows of the dark forest, in the light of the lofty hills, in the warmth and beauty of the broad plains of the great globe, they stand in matchless dignity. But they are few. They are patriarchs of the vegetable kingdom, receiving the homage of myriads of children. With what mute eloquence do they address us? With what moving pathos do the trees of Olivet discourse of Jesus, his “beautiful life and sublime death”? How the cedars of Lebanon talk of Solomon and Hiram, and the great temple of Jerusalem! In our own country and in our own time, ancient trees have been, and still are, intimately connected with our history as colonies and as a nation; they command the reverence of every heart.

Probably the most ancient of these living links connecting the present and the past was the Big Tree that stood on the bank of the Genesee River, near the village of Geneseo, New York. When first seen by the white man, it was the patriarch of the Geneseo Valley and was so revered by the Senecas that they named their village “Big Tree.” It also gave name to an eminent Seneca chief, who was the friend of Washington and his cause. During a great flood in the Geneseo Valley in 1857, the Big Tree was swept away and buried in the bottom of Lake Ontario. The trunk measured twenty-five feet, nine inches in circumference.

Probably next in age to the Big Tree was the famous Charter Oak in the city of Hartford, Connecticut. It was standing at the height of its glory and was estimated to be six hundred years old when the seeds of the commonwealth were planted there. Connected with it is a curious episode. When James II ascended the English throne, he took measures to suppress the growth of free government in America; he sent over Edmond Andros to take away the charters from the colonies and to rule over them as governor general. Connecticut refused to give up her charter. When Andros attempted to seize it during a night session of the Assembly, Captain Wadsworth bore the charter away and secreted it in a hollow of the old oak. After James II had been deposed and Andros had been banished from New England, the charter was taken from its hiding place and the government re-established. On a stormy night in August, 1854, the old oak was prostrated.

In the Kensington area of Philadelphia, an old elm stood until 1810, known as Penn’s Treaty Tree, because under it the renowned Quaker made his compact with the Indians. “I will not do as the Marylanders did, that is, call you children or brothers only,” said Penn, addressing the Indians, “for parents are apt to whip their children too severely, and brothers sometimes will differ; neither will I compare the friendship between us to a chain for the rain may rust it or a tree may fall and break it, but I will consider you as the same flesh and blood with the Christians, and the same as if one man’s body were to be divided into two parts.”

Until 1860 a venerable willow tree stood in New York City and it has an interesting history. When Alexander Pope, the English poet, built his villa at Twickenham, he planted a small twig that a friend had sent him from Smyrna. This little twig of the Salix babylonica, or weeping willow, became the parent of all its kind in England and in the United States. One of the British officers who came to Boston in 1775 to crush the American Revolution carried with him a twig from Pope’s willow to plant on American soil. The twig was presented to John Parke Custis, Washington’s stepson, and was planted at Abingdon, Virginia. In 1790 General Gates planted a shoot from it on his farm on Manhattan Island, where it became in time a beautiful willow, the grandchild of Pope’s willow at Twickenham.

Soon after the great conflict for American independence had begun, Washington was appointed Commander in Chief of the continental forces; on July 2, 1775, he took up his headquarters at Cambridge, Massachusetts. The following morning he proceeded to a great elm tree at the north end of Cambridge Common and drawing his sword, he formally took command of the army. The old elm tree was known afterward as Washington’s Elm.

Near the dividing line between North and South Carolina stood a famous tulip tree, marking the spot where the Americans defeated a part of Lord Cornwallis’ army in October, 1780. Because ten Tories were hanged from its branches after the battle, the tree was called afterward the Tory Tulip Tree.

Until about 1852, a majestic pine tree stood by the highway between the villages of Fort Edward and Sandy Hill (now Hudson Falls) on the Hudson in upstate New York. Upon its trunk was carved “Jane McCrea, 1777.” The inscription memorialized the tragic fate of Jane McCrea. The daughter of a New Jersey clergyman, she moved, after her father’s death, to her brother’s home near Fort Edward. Here she became engaged to a neighbor’s son. He was a loyalist who entered the army of Burgoyne. In 1777, Jane was captured by Indians and was killed instantly when a bullet intended for the savages pierced her heart. Her lover purchased the locks of his beloved, deserted the army, and retired to Canada, where he bewailed his betrothed’s fate until the end of his life.

In 1779 Washington sent Mad Anthony Wayne to storm the fort on Stony Point in the Hudson highlands. When asked by Washington whether he could carry the fort, Wayne replied: “I’ll storm hell if you will only plan it!” Under a black walnut tree, in the stillness of the night, Wayne gave orders to his men, and as stealthily as tigers they approached the fort and surprised it. In the early morning Wayne wrote to the Commander in Chief, “The fort and garrison and Colonel Johnston are ours.” The walnut tree has perished.

Near Seaconnet, Rhode Island, stood a venerable sycamore tree, the only great tree left in that section of the state by the British when they evacuated it in October, 1779. Seaconnet Channel was the scene of one of the most dashing exploits of the War of Independence. The British had blocked the channel with the warship, “Pigot,” which was armed with twelve eight-pounders and ten swivels. Captain Silas Talbot undertook the capture of the “Pigot.” Embarking sixty men on the coasting schooner “Hawke” which was armed with only three three-pounders and small arms, he sailed under cover of darkness. Grappling the enemy, he boarded, drove the crew below, coiled the cables over the hatchway to secure his prisoners, and carried off his prize to Stonington.

In Charleston until 1849 there was a beautiful magnolia tree which spread its branches over more than two hundred square feet. Under this tree General Benjamin Lincoln held a council in 1780 to determine whether Charleston, then besieged by Sir Henry Clinton, should be evacuated. It was resolved to remain, but a few weeks later the Americans surrendered to the British, who had been reinforced by Lord Cornwallis.

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