Monday, Jan. 16, 1978
Death of an Aged Monarch
By Hugh Sidey
While the French were cheering Jimmy Carter atong the Champs-Elysees :he other day, a quiet tragedy was occurring on the front lawn of the White House. One of the monarchs of the grounds was put to death section by section.
An American elm tree, probably more than 100 years old and planted in the days of Rutherford B. Hayes, was hopelessly infected with Dutch elm dis ease. It was not the first of the elder giants to succumb, and it is not likely to be the last. But this tree -- No. 75 on a White House landscape plan -- was special.
It was halfway up the curving northwest driveway. On winter nights its 105-ft.-tall crown framed the floodlighted White House portico, its graceful branches seeming to cradle the mansion. In summer it rustled softly and spread soothing shade across the lawn. Old 75's trunk was 8 ft. thick at the base. It was the most solid citizen of the front acres. Teddy Roosevelt's children played around it. Mourners leaned on it when they brought John Kennedy's body back to the White House. The televi sion journalists knew a friend when they saw one: John Chancellor, Dan Rather, Frank Reynolds, Tom Brokaw -- all established outdoor studios beneath the kindly arms of this seasoned Ulmus americana.
The evening news will look different.
The gardeners will plant another elm.
But it may be only 1 1/2 in. at the trunk and 10 ft. high. It may take another 20 Presidents before the new elm is substantial enough to calm the mortals below with a gentle wave of its long fingers.
As the chain saws snarled and the great logs were carted off to Virginia for disposal, passers-by on Pennsylvania Avenue paused to watch and wonder. Trees have been an integral part of American commerce, folklore and culture. Especially elm trees. William Penn signed his treaty with the Indians in 1682 under an elm that was already 295 years old. The Boston Liberty Tree of 1770 was an elm. George Washington took command of the Continental troops under the Cambridge elm on July 3, 1775. Settlers hauled elms west and south and north, lining their streets and filling their parks with them.
Before the Dutch elm disease struck in 1930, there were 77 million elms in U.S. cities and towns. Now there are 34 million and the disease has spread to 41 states. The Federal Government will spend about $4 million to seek a cure and control the disease this year. How feeble that is. We pay about $6 million a year for special limousine and airplane service for Washington's Government bigwigs. The Dutch elm disease has denuded whole communities, devastated suburbs, cost billions in neighborhood devaluation and incalculable aesthetic loss that some experts say has markedly altered home environments. Maybe there is a message in the White House front yard, which is everybody's front yard.
Old 75 is the eighth big White House elm to succumb to Dutch elm disease.
Gardener Irvin Williams and his scouts sighted the telltale wilt in its leaves two years ago. They cut off some of the branches, but by last spring there were more signs of distress. Williams and his men gave the tree injections in a last bid to save its life. By September, however, it was plain there was no hope. Williams sadly ordered Old 75's destruction to try to save the remaining 26 elms on the White House grounds.
But even as last rites were being given to Old 75 last week, there was a note of cheer and hope. Just a few paces up the drive was a thriving young elm about 6 in. thick and 15 ft. tall, planted on Arbor Day in 1975 by Betty Ford. That tree is a seedling of the oldest resident tree on the White House grounds -- the John Quincy Adams elm, which presides over the south lawn. The older tree has not only resisted the Dutch elm disease, but since 1826 has survived every storm and is still siring offspring by the dozen. With a little luck it will not be long before Tom Brokaw's grandson can stand under the protective arms of the younger John Quincy Adams elm and explain what President Amy Carter is doing along the Champs-Elysees.
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