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The digitized backfile of the magazine of the Arnold Aboretum is browsable here, from its 1911 debut as the Bulletin of Popular Information to its current incarnation as Arnoldia: The Nature of Trees.

Under the “browse by date” button below, click on individual issues to access all articles available in pdf format. Alternatively, click on “browse by author” to access an alphabetical index of contributors with links to their articles.

Electronic access to Arnoldia is embargoed for one year from date of publication, so the most recent issues of the magazine will not be accessible here. Select stories from the most recent issues are posted on the web; see the listing of issues here for links to those articles.

Arnoldia is also made available electronically via JSTOR, accessible through most university and many metropolitan public libraries, and on the web at the Biodiversity Heritage Library.

[{"has_event_date":0,"type":"arnoldia","title":"To Wander About","article_sequence":1,"start_page":1,"end_page":2,"url":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/\/action\/directLinkImage?assetId=25792","featured_photo":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/servlet\/display?file=b34509f9d4e0d15ebb6b.jpg","volume":79,"issue_number":"2","year":2022,"series":null,"season":null,"authors":"Friedman, Ned","article_content":"To wander about among a vegetation which is new to one is pleasant and instructive. It is the same with familiar objects: in the end we cease to think about them at all. What is seeing without thinking?\nJohann Wolfgang von Goethe\nWe live in an age of ecosystems and genomes, where the scale of biology is usually presented at one of two extremes, global or genomic. There are good reasons for humanity's focus on the global scale of biology here and now in the Anthropocene. With human-induced climate change in the process of permanently altering the natural trajectories of nearly four billion years of evolution and ecological interactions between species, there is an intense focus on documenting and predicting what our single species has unleashed on the many millions of species of life with whom we have inherited and currently share the planet.\nAt the same time, the miracles of DNA sequencing technologies have allowed us to understand, in ways previously unimaginable, our own extraordinary evolutionary journey of becoming human, connecting us back in time to the first single celled forms of life. Reading the DNA has also provided amazing insights into everything from the genes responsible for making a flower to the genetic coding that maps out neural networks in fruit flies.\nIf one views the living natural world predominantly through the lenses of ecosystems and genomes, however, then something has been lost. I am an organismic biologist, a plant morphologist to be more precise. Simply put, this means that when I think of a 'unit' of biology, I am thinking about single organisms, just as you and I, as members of the human species, are single organisms. We are conceived as a zygote, develop into an embryo, are born, grow, learn to walk and speak, have interactions with other human organisms, and eventually complete an arc of life that returns our carbon to the earth. Of course, there is no such thing as a single organism all organisms depend on a web of myriad other species but I identify as an organism, knowing full well that there are roughly as many bacterial cells in my body as there are human cells. And the tree outside of my window, even though I know it has complex associations with mycorrhizal fungi and bacteria, is still a unit of biology that can powerfully be seen as an organism.\nI yearn to see organisms individual trees to meet them, witness them, learn from them, and indeed, to age with them. And this is the beautiful thing about the Arnold Arboretum and its roughly 16,000 accessioned woody plants. Each has provenance an organismic history with an origin story, and all that goes with siting, planting, and caring for an individual plant over decades and even centuries. I can reflect on the magnificent twisted European beech (14599*A) that was collected in the wild in France, transported to Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew, and then sent on a journey to the Arnold Arboretum in 1888. I can imagine a mere sapling being planted in the ground on the south flank of Bussey Hill in the beech collection. My mind reels in the magnitudes of time as I reflect on the generations of horticulturists who have cared for this one individual. And here, more than a century later, I can rejoice in its magnificent fall colors, its snow-covered spiraling branches, the light-green and delicate newly-flushed leaves in the spring, and the deep greens of summer. At the Arnold Arboretum, everything is truly about paying it forward.\nNot long after settling into the Arboretum, I resolved that I would never let a week go by without getting out onto the grounds to look at and photograph the woody plants that had beckoned me here. On every walk, I bring my small pocket camera and take pictures. Each night, I select the better ones, and spend additional time reflecting on what was revealed to me. By simply taking the time to observe, I feel as though I have gotten to know these non-sentient organisms on their terms: not as extensions of me, but rather as fellow living beings that can reveal their lives, history, complexity, beauty, architecture, and basic natural history.\nOver the years, from these meandering walks, I appear to have developed several of what I now refer to as (healthy) obsessions with phenomena which, once I observed them in the Arboretum, I became acutely interested in seeing in all of their manifestations. These obsessions include my ongoing annual spring quest to witness the brilliant hues of ovulate (seed-bearing) conifer cones; the exuberance of budbreak among the horsechestnuts and buckeyes; a fixation on the magical dispersal of pollen from rhododendron flowers; magnolias in fruit (and always, the bigleaf magnolia in flower); smooth bark (especially among snakebark maples in the winter); the startlingly bizarre naked resting buds of India quassiawood and the Arboretum's single specimen of Caucasian wingnut; looking straight up the trunks of large trees in all seasons; acorns in August (and the mad dash to finish filling up the fruit in the early fall); and the act of shattering birch infructescences to gaze upon their minute, delicately winged seeds, which immediately lift from my palm and are carried off by the wind.\nDiscovering plants as individuals, organisms to be reckoned with and reflected upon, is a journey worth taking, and one that never ends. It is a journey that enriches my life every day, in ways that I could not have imagined as I made my first focused perambulation on the grounds of the Arnold Arboretum years ago. It is also a journey that will be unique (and uniquely rewarding) to each person who sets out to discover the essence of plants by meeting these magnificent organisms on their terms, simply by looking and reflecting.\nIf we are ever to save the planet from our destructive tendencies, of warring with nature and each other, I would like to suggest that it can start by regularly walking in a garden, a park, the woods, or one's backyard, and learning to rejoice in the extraordinary beauty of organisms that can't talk to us, and indeed are wholly indifferent to our very existence (although certainly not unaffected) but whose presence is a constant reminder of the nearly miraculous complexity and interconnectedeness of life."},{"has_event_date":0,"type":"arnoldia","title":"Hedging Our Bets","article_sequence":2,"start_page":8,"end_page":10,"url":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/\/action\/directLinkImage?assetId=25791","featured_photo":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/servlet\/display?file=b34509f9d4e0d15ebb27.jpg","volume":79,"issue_number":"2","year":2022,"series":null,"season":null,"authors":"Meyer, Mary H.; Kreevich, Nick","article_content":"Believe it or not, a hedge collection can be full of surprises. Take the row of 20-25 foot-tall Jack pines, Pinus banksiana, just one of the 73 taxa in the Hedge Collection at the Minnesota Landscape Arboretum (MLA). These tough natives have great cold and drought tolerance but what are they doing, unpruned, in this formal hedge collection? The historical documentation of the collection provided crucial clues: From early curatorial records, we learned the Jack pine hedge was made up of plants grown from seed collected by Al Johnson, an early MLA curator, from a witch's broom in Chittamo, Wisconsin. In slides, we found pictures of plant people with witch's brooms, from which they coveted seed in hopes of finding new dwarf plants. While the story of the Jack pines is clearer now, broad questions remain: What did record-keeping look like in 1967? Whose idea was it to start the collection? Was there an initial donor or collection goal?\nThese were some of our questions when we began to write our new ebook, Hedges: A Brief History and the Minnesota Hedges Collection (pressbooks.umn.edu\/hedges), and document the institutional knowledge of the collection. Although each plant had its own record with basic provenance information, our questions were not easy to answer. When we tell people (even horticulturists) that we wrote a book about hedges, they often look puzzled; when we ask if they grew up with a hedge, or if they ever pruned a hedge, however, most often the answer is yes. We ask them to think about why the hedge was there, and what it might have meant to their family and neighbors. And for many people, a light comes on as they connect their hedge to the landscape and its cultural meaning.\nEstablished in 1958, the MLA began as a horticultural research site for testing winter hardiness of plants (USDA hardiness zone 4), including plants commonly used in hedges. The MLA Hedge Collection is one of the oldest such assemblages, due in part to the boom in popularity that hedges saw throughout the 1960s, thanks to the postwar building boom and the growth of suburbia.\nSifting through thousands of more-than-60-year-old, 3 5-inch accession cards, filed in Steelmaster card cabinets, is like discovering an old journal or generational photo album at a yard sale: as soon as you start moving your fingers across the edges of the cards, musty whiffs of past time bring on a feeling of nostalgia. With each flip of a card, organized alphabetically by generic, specific, and cultivar epithets, you begin to build a historical portrait of the MLA collections dating from 1958. These index cards, also known as accession records, reveal that acquiring a plant and giving it a number did not necessarily coincide with when it was planted. Documentation on the cards also includes notes on fall color, winter injuries, fruit set, and overall growth habit all important considerations when assessing the ornamental value of a hedge. It is clear from the records that prior keepers prized foliage density, foliage color, and winter hardiness above all. We could even trace the impacts of weather on the hedge collection, with two of the coldest winters in recorded history (1978-9, with an average temperature of 9.4\u00a1F, and '77-8, with an average temperature of 10.5\u00a1F) apparent in plant-record notes on injury and severe dieback. Natural selection certainly took its course with those back-to-back weather events, but also provided the staff with critical knowledge of how particular hedge plants respond to extreme cold.\nWe also interviewed a number of employees, current and retired, to record their memories and discover the origins of some of the more unusual plants in the collection. Kathy Allen, Andersen Horticultural Librarian, assisted with locating the early Arboretum annual reports, which add critical details regarding scope of and support for the collection. 'The collection was planted to show which plants were the best for formal hedges,' recounts Director, Peter Moe, himself a longtime MLA employee. 'There were fewer compact forms of many species at that time and many people tended to try to keep large plants such as Amur maple as medium-sized hedges.' Height, density, and diversity could be shown in a planting a variety of hedges, which at the time were an extremely common and desirable landscape element.\nThree taxa of boxwood (Buxus 'Glencoe' Chicagoland Green\u00aa; B. microphylla var. koreana, and B. sempervirens) are the only broadleaved evergreens in the collection. Notes from early Arboretum newsletters express interest in this genus, though it was thought not to be winter hardy by many. Accession records and notes from the '60s to '70s document the overturning of this wisdom, with comments such as 'best in collection' and 'very good hedge material.' Although the plants show winter burn in the spring many years, the hardiness of boxwood hedges is no longer a question.\nGuided by prior documentation standards at the MLA, evaluating our current hedge collection for ornamental value sometimes felt like being a judge for the Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show, looking at one favorite after another. Usually, the first concern when pondering a hedge is its performance as a barrier. Yet not all hedges intend to create a barrier, but may instead provide ornamental value to an existing landscape or garden. The latter is mostly a matter of opinion: some may be wowed by the texture or height of a hedge, while others are more interested in the seasonal changes such as flower, fruit, and fall color.\nOur Thuja occidentalis 'Wareana' (American arborvitae) was the clear winner in terms of privacy, reaching heights of up to ten feet at maturity, with very dense, evergreen foliage. On the opposite end of the density spectrum, a hedge like Hydrangea arborescens 'Annabelle' (smooth Hydrangea) needs consistent renewal pruning to provide what it is best known for: its large, rounded flower heads. While the 'Annabelle' hedge can reach heights that garner it semi-private status, there is no hiding behind this deciduous shrub come winter. Deciduous hedges vary greatly as the seasons change, and will react strongly to weather anomalies. Early in the growing season, Philadelphus coronarius 'Aureus' looks like a candidate for removal, but its charm and value for use in a hedge come to fruition in the summer, with its beautiful chartreuse foliage.\nSuch factors are boldly visible through the seasons at the MLA, when you drive over the crest of a small hill and 73 neat hedges suddenly spread before you. It is hard to not notice them! Our hedge collection is a document of human intervention in the landscape. While it is doubtful that we would plant a hedge collection in a public garden today, there is value in keeping historical horticultural garden elements intact for future study. This preservation effort encompasses both plants and the records we keep of them.\nAnd so a word of advice to anyone thinking of fleshing out historical documentation for a plant collection: much institutional knowledge exists only in the memory of long term staff. Documenting this tacit knowledge, with audio or video recordings if possible, as well as continuing to keep records beyond mere accession numbers, will help curators, horticulturists, and other Arboretum staff understand the goal and educational purpose of a collection. Rarely do we over-document the details of our plant collections. As authors on hedges, our perspective has become more complex, realizing that people subconsciously use hedges to take control of their property and show authority. Some may balk at using the word 'authority' in connection with a hedge. Our reaction to plants is often subconscious, however; we rarely realize how deeply they affect us. A well-pruned hedge subconsciously communicates human control, and implies a safe, managed landscape. Our species' role in the landscape is readily seen, but often not fully recognized, when we encounter a hedge."},{"has_event_date":0,"type":"arnoldia","title":"Quest for Southern Red Oak-North of the Mason-Dixon Line","article_sequence":3,"start_page":11,"end_page":13,"url":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/\/action\/directLinkImage?assetId=25790","featured_photo":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/servlet\/display?file=b34509f9d4e0d15eb76f.jpg","volume":79,"issue_number":"2","year":2022,"series":null,"season":null,"authors":"Zale, Peter J.; Aiello, Anthony S.","article_content":"While plant collecting is often romanticized as occurring in pristine natural habitats, much of the most successful seed collecting is done in more prosaic locations. This is especially true when searching for tree species, where roadsides or power line rights-of-way provide light (for tree growth) and ease of access to fruiting branches (for collecting convenience). This certainly was the case in September 2020, as we searched for Quercus falcata (Spanish oak, or southern red oak) in southern Chester County (PA). After a fruitless morning at the Goat Hill Serpentine Barrens Preserve, we found much better success along local county roads.\nWhy Quercus falcata? Based on biological and climatic threats to tree species traditionally grown at Longwood Gardens, we have focused recent efforts on native species that combine ornamental traits with disease resistance and greater heat tolerance. For example, red oak (Quercus rubra), one of the more prominent shade trees at Longwood Gardens, in recent years has been among the most susceptible to bacterial leaf scorch (Xylella fastidiosa), which can weaken and eventually kill mature trees. As possible substitutes for this and other susceptible oaks, we targeted populations of Quercus phellos, Quercus michauxii, and Quercus falcata native to southeastern Pennsylvania. Maturing at approximately the same size as red oak, all three are potential substitutes as high-canopy, overstory shade trees. Each of these three species, which are widespread further south, reach the northern limits of their native ranges in southeastern Pennsylvania, southern New Jersey, and Long Island. Southern red oak barely extends its range into southeastern Pennsylvania, southern New Jersey, and possibly Staten Island and Long Island. In fact, due to its rarity in Pennsylvania (fewer than fifteen populations are known in the state), the Pennsylvania Natural Heritage Program lists it as a species of special concern (an S1, for those familiar with the coding).\nFaced with travel restrictions due to the COVID-19 pandemic, starting in the late summer and fall of 2020, we decided to look for local opportunities for collecting seed, pursuing a range of regional collecting objectives that we had previously not achieved. This included targeting the southern ranges of northern species (such as Larix laricina) and, vice-versa, the northern limits of southern species (for example Quercus virginiana), with the goal of growing plants suitable for changing climatic conditions in the Delaware Valley. For those southern species that reach into the mid-Atlantic, the extreme populations might possess traits, including cold tolerance, that provide opportunities to grow these beyond their traditional horticultural ranges. Conversely, for the northern species, the southernmost populations could possess greater heat tolerance, allowing us to continue to grow these as their native populations retreat northwards in the face of warming climates.\nIn September 2020, we focused our collecting on nearby populations of Quercus falcata, which occur on serpentine soils and their associated barrens. (Serpentine barrens, with thin, nutrient-poor soils, support high levels of unusual, rare, or endangered species, in contrast to adjacent areas.) We had targeted Goat Hill based on recent herbarium records from this location, but we did not find any southern red oaks there. Collecting was easy along the county roads, however, where we made three separate collections from trees whose acorns were within reach of our pole pruners. These three populations, within two miles of each other, were made up of large mature trees that were at least 50 feet tall. Quercus falcata stand out among other oaks, having coarsely lobed leaves with sickle-shaped (falcate) terminal lobes, and dense grey down (pubescence) beneath. For two of these collections, the southern red oaks were mixed among other native trees species in a dense forest; the third location was a grove of separate mature trees growing in a heavily grazed cow pasture, all within sight of the Herr's Snack Factory, a local landmark.\nSeeking additional Pennsylvanian locations of Quercus falcata, we pored through herbarium collections shared through the Mid-Atlantic Herbaria Consortium. Historical records from the late 1800s through the mid-1900s show a distribution in southeast Pennsylvania along much of the Piedmont-Coastal Plain boundaries, including southwest Philadelphia. But due to urbanization of much of this historic range (which includes Philadelphia International Airport), herbarium collections since the late 1980s center on three areas: southern Chester County near the Maryland border, southern Montgomery County along Militia Hill in Fort Washington State Park, and southern Bucks County along the Delaware River.\nWhile collecting southern red oak within a few square miles of West Nottingham Township (Chester County), we came across a remarkable diversity of eight oak species in addition to Quercus falcata, we also encountered Q. alba, Q. ilicifolia, Q. marilandica, Q. prinoides, Q. rubra, Q. stellata, and Q. velutina. Though familiar with the local diversity of oaks in southeast Pennsylvania, we rarely see this number of species in a single day's outing. Together, these represent a significant portion of the 11 oaks reported by Hugh Stone in his two-volume 1945 Flora of Chester County Pennsylvania, and nearly half of the approximately 20 oak species found in Pennsylvania. This wealth of oak species serves testament to the richness of the Chester County flora, historically the most botanically diverse in the state, though heavily impacted by human activities since the publication of Stone's Flora.\nWe returned in 2021 to make duplicate collections from the easily accessible roadside trees found in 2020. Oaks are famous for having years of heavy acorn production (mast years) followed by years of lower production. In 2020, we experienced a post-mast year when looking for Quercus phellos in southern Bucks County. Despite seeing a few dozen trees during a day in the field, we did not see a single acorn on any of these. Our luck was better with Quercus falcata: in 2020 we collected a total of approximately 250 acorns, and in 2021, just under 200 acorns.\nAs with seed collecting, patience is the main ingredient needed to grow oak seedlings. To germinate, acorns usually need a few months of cold treatment, followed by warm conditions and the increasing day lengths of spring. Ultimately the seedlings derived from these collections will be evaluated in our Research Nursery for growth rate and form, disease resistance, and fall color, before being introduced into public areas of Longwood Gardens."},{"has_event_date":0,"type":"arnoldia","title":"Hybrids Hiding in Plain Sight","article_sequence":4,"start_page":14,"end_page":15,"url":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/\/action\/directLinkImage?assetId=25789","featured_photo":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/servlet\/display?file=b34509f9d4e0d15eb36c.jpg","volume":79,"issue_number":"2","year":2022,"series":null,"season":null,"authors":"Connolly, Bryan","article_content":"Last summer, while working as a consulting botanist for the Environmental Protection Agency's National Wetland Condition Assessment project in Allamuchy Township, New Jersey, I found an unusual colony of shrubby dogwood in the genus Swida (previously known as Cornus). The research plot was in a seasonally flooded meadow, with broad-leaved cattail (Typha latifolia), ironweed (Vernonia noveboracensis), and reed canary grass (Phalaris arundinacea) present. The site was previously cleared and looked to have a long history of human disturbance. The location is now set aside as town open space, and secondary succession is occurring, with woody plants increasing in dominance. Swida, or shrubby dogwoods, are known as old-field colonizers, and also as wetland species. There were two species present at this locality, S. racemosa, gray dogwood, and S. amomum, silky dogwood. In my experience, S. racemosa is more of an old-field colonizer, while S. amomum tends to favor wetlands. The area was both an old field and a wetland, and so it made sense that the species were co-occurring and abundant at the site.\nI noticed one Swida colony that did not cleanly fit into either S. racemosa or S. amomum. Swida racemosa generally has narrow (lanceolate) leaves, white fruit, gray bark, white pith, and upright growth habit; while S. amomum has broader (ovate) leaves, reddish-purple bark, brown twig pith, blue fruit, and a mounded growth form. The atypical plant I spotted had S. racemose characters, including narrow leaves 2.5\u00d03.8 cm wide and verrucose gray bark on the older stems, but also displayed the S. amomum traits of blue fruit and brown twig pith. Additionally, the growth form was unusual: it was a tall plant, about 2\u00d03 m in height, and somehow both upright and mounded, intermediate between the habits of S. racemosa and S. amomum. The pedicels or flower stalks were also reddish-maroon, not the typical bright red of S. racemosa. With this combination of characters, I thought it was likely to be a hybrid of the two species. From my experience working with coauthors on The Vascular Plants of Massachusetts: A County Checklist, I remembered a Swida hybrid, though I couldn't recall the parental species or if it was named. Additionally, from my wanderings and botanical work in the Northeastern US, I have published many new records of hybrid taxa and I could not place this plant among them.\nAfter a long day in the field I returned to my hotel room, fired up Go Botany (the online database of the Native Plant Trust), and confirmed that S. racemosa and S. amomum do in fact hybridize. On the account of my vague Swida hybrid recollection and my previous encounters with hybrid taxa, I wasn't surprised that a cross was known, but was glad that my hybrid hypothesis was supported by the literature. To my delight, the hybrid was listed as a nothospecies (a direct hybrid of two species) with the name Swida arnoldiana. The original description, by Alfred Rehder, was made in 1905 from a row of shrubs growing at the Arnold Arboretum.\nThis individual could just represent variation found within S. racemosa, which occasionally can have brown pith or light blue fruit. But I find it unlikely that a plant would exhibit both these traits while also co-occuring with plants that have the morphology of S. racemosa and S. amomum. I thus believe this plant to be S. arnoldiana. If I am correct, then it is a state record for New Jersey! According to Flora of North America, the hybrid has only been found in Massachusetts, Missouri, Ohio, and Pennsylvania.\nThe specimen voucher will be deposited at the Arnold Arboretum herbarium. This unique hybrid individual spotted in the field offered a nice little puzzle to solve and it was gratifying to learn that it is named after a wonderful arboretum I know and love!"},{"has_event_date":0,"type":"arnoldia","title":"Somewhere in the Panhandle of Florida","article_sequence":5,"start_page":16,"end_page":17,"url":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/\/action\/directLinkImage?assetId=25788","featured_photo":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/servlet\/display?file=b34509f9d4e0d15eb328.jpg","volume":79,"issue_number":"2","year":2022,"series":null,"season":null,"authors":"Thomas, Elizabeth; Boland, Tim","article_content":"Somewhere in the panhandle of Florida, traveling for miles within a labyrinth of perfectly paved yet utterly empty roads, we blindly followed our guide, Bob, to a population of our target species, cracking jokes as we drove about the sinister fate awaiting us. We were in the ghost of a ghost town: the skeleton of a subdivision that was never built, planned for a population that never came. Every street is identical, save for the occasional cul-de-sac jutting into scrubby second-growth forest. Not only did the people never arrive, but the houses were never constructed; hundreds of miles of paved roads were laid here in the 1990s, only to be left abandoned, another suburban dystopia created by Florida's rich history of speculative development.\nBob pulled his Prius to the side of the road, and we parked behind him. We'd been put in touch with Bob, a local resident and active amateur botanist, by our contact in the Florida Forest Service; it had been Bob who discovered this population of Stewartia malacodendron, and he was eager to share it with trustworthy enthusiasts. Known commonly as 'silky stewartia' or 'silky camellia' due to its showy, camellia-like blooms, S. malacodendron is a small deciduous understory tree native to the southeastern coastal plain of the United States, from Virginia to the northeast and Texas to the southwest. Traveling from the Polly Hill Arboretum on Martha's Vineyard in the late summer of 2021, we had come to harvest fruits (and thus, seed) of this species to grow into plants for our ex-situ living collections. As co-holders of the Plant Collection Network's National Collection of the genus Stewartia with the Arnold Arboretum, we were hoping to collect from populations at the southernmost edge of its range, heretofore unrepresented in our living collections.\nGrabbing our gear, we ambled through the woody goldenrod and beautyberry, enjoying the fresh light of an early September morning pouring through the sparse canopy of southern magnolia and live oak. We were only about 100 feet from the road when we stumbled across our first stewartia tree, standing like a sentinel at the rim of a large, sunny slope dropping down to a sinkhole pond. Our satisfaction to find it fruiting quickly turned to excitement and then overwhelm as we spotted at least a dozen more of them spread across the face of the slope, each one dripping with plump, green fruits larger than we had ever seen before. Normally about an inch in diameter, these were more akin to fuzzy ping pong balls or small crabapples. Balancing on the scrubby slope and madly scribbling collection numbers on sandwich bags, we exchanged involuntary expletives as we took in the superlative bounty of fruits. Were we harvesting germplasm, or were we apple picking?\nOf conservation concern throughout most of its range, silky camellia is a protected endangered species in the state of Florida. Protected in theory, at least: as we began to stuff the plump green fruits into plastic bags, we gazed across the sinkhole, where a collage of zig-zagging tire tracks defaced the far slope all the way down to the shore of the pond. With its bleached, eroded sands, this local party spot is visible even from satellite images.\nLiz heard Bob holler from somewhere upslope to her left. Though she couldn't make out what he was saying, she knew he'd found yet another group of exceptionally fecund trees. This good news found her in a fluster of multitasking, as she scrambled to capture location coordinates on our GPS unit, measure and record specimen data and collection numbers by hand in our field book, label baggies and herbarium samples, take pictures, and collect fruit. Sharpie cap in mouth and hair sticking to her sweaty forehead, she wondered whether we'd be late to our next stop that morning, meeting our next guide at a site about three hours west. We'd expected this to be a quick roadside stop, not an absolute windfall.\nThis expedition is our most focused effort to collect this species since an Alabama excursion in 2007. Our founder, Polly Hill, was among the first private collectors to grow this plant, with our oldest tree dating back to 1962. The mild maritime climate and acidic soils of Martha's Vineyard happily support the cultivation of this stunning, small, flowering tree.\nMost of our expedition planning is done months ahead to arrange for a seasoned naturalist or professional botanist to lead us to target species. Admittedly, we get into some very wild places to collect the silky stewartia. Usually, we find them after rugged hikes into deep wilderness. Yet here on this fine morning, just off an intersection crossroad, we had found the most robust population of silky stewartia Tim has witnessed in 15 years of pursuing it. Slicing into the globose fruits, we found dark brown sclerified seeds that shone brightly in the late morning light.\nThis unexpected and surreal discovery was a vivid reminder that plants are both resilient and vulnerable. The silky stewartia is imperiled by habitat destruction, principally through logging or building development. On a previous scouting trip to Alabama in 2012, we bore witness to a new condominium development that destroyed a former thriving population. Somehow, this spectacular hillside of trees was spared the backhoe and bulldozer for now. With the same luck that brought us to this unique population of trees, we hope to return and see them in bloom someday. Perhaps the flower size will also be larger, or some of the petals streaked ruby red, as variants in the wild are known to do?\nWe looked at our watches to check our time; not surprisingly, we would be late to our next destination. However, the place, the trees, and the experience were worth it. As we gathered up our gear to move onto our next location, we did so in a suspended state of stewartia euphoria. The remainder of the trip was both productive and satisfying, but nothing would compare to this remarkable discovery in the unlikeliest of places."},{"has_event_date":0,"type":"arnoldia","title":"Rhododendron prunifolium","article_sequence":6,"start_page":18,"end_page":19,"url":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/\/action\/directLinkImage?assetId=25787","featured_photo":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/servlet\/display?file=b34509f9d4e0d15eaf25.jpg","volume":79,"issue_number":"2","year":2022,"series":null,"season":null,"authors":"Dosmann, Michael S.","article_content":"I have always been fond of Korean azalea (Rhododendron mucronulatum), that hardy shrub whose pink flowers crack open just as the snow recedes. At the other end of the season, and the last of our azaleas to flower, comes another personal favorite: Rhododendron prunifolium (plumleaf azalea).\nMost of the Arboretum's plumleaf azaleas grow along Meadow Road, amassed below towering black locusts in the Wolcott Bed. They escape notice until the middle of July, when their floral buds swell and burst open, when few woody plants bloom and temperatures are irrepressibly hot. Although it's not comprehensively accurate (color ranges from deep red to nearly pinkish-orange), in this portrait, I'll say the flowers are safety orange, that alarming shade reserved for prison jumpsuits and cautionary traffic cones.\nThis color should be taken as a warning, because Rhododendron prunifolium is rare in nature, limited to just a few dozen populations in the Chattahoochee River Valley and straddling the border of southern Alabama and Georgia. Neither disease nor insect is to blame; climate change (to date at least) is also not the culprit. Instead, the species totters on the brink simply because its preferred habitat mesic forests, stream sides, and ravines is disappearing due to logging and other development. In this respect, plumleaf azalea is like most other woody plants threatened with extinction: their natural homes are vanishing.\nShortly after the founding of the Center for Plant Conservation in 1984 (then based at the Arnold Arboretum), we began to collect the species in earnest. At present we grow thirty-four plants, mostly from Georgia's Dade, Harris, and Stewart Counties. Preserving wild populations remains the highest priority, but it is important to have a back-up; while they grow here, their story is shared with others, and scholars from around the world come here to study them.\nLet's not ignore the fact that Rhododendron prunifolium looks good in the garden. For endangered species, being charismatic and attracting attention is a gateway to its security (just look at the giant panda). This means we must equally care for species whose security is questionable simply because they are less charming, at least in appearance anyway. At the Arnold, we make room for these plants, too."},{"has_event_date":0,"type":"arnoldia","title":"Beatrix Farrand on Mount Desert Island","article_sequence":7,"start_page":20,"end_page":31,"url":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/\/action\/directLinkImage?assetId=25786","featured_photo":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/servlet\/display?file=b34509f9d4e0d15eab6d.jpg","volume":79,"issue_number":"2","year":2022,"series":null,"season":null,"authors":"Eason, Rodney","article_content":"I first visited the Abby Aldrich Rockefeller Garden, in Seal Harbor, Maine, on vacation with my then-fianc\u017de, now-wife, Carrie, in 1997. We were both young landscape architects practicing at different firms in Raleigh, North Carolina. The garden visit had been arranged by Carrie's college classmate, Sarah Richardson, who lived on Mount Desert Island. After days spent hiking through Acadia National Park's coniferous forests, granite peaks, and scattered blueberries and junipers, the refined curation of color within the borders of the Abby Aldrich Rockefeller Garden was a beautiful and dramatic contrast.\nSarah informed us that the Rockefeller Garden was designed by Beatrix Farrand (June 19, 1872-February 28, 1959), who also had designed Dumbarton Oaks in Washington, DC. One of Carrie's classes at Penn State had made a trip to our nation's capital, where she had been awestruck by the beauty of that garden. The only images I had seen of Dumbarton Oaks came from books and slide lectures, and it would be roughly 18 years before I would encounter Farrand's work in depth, reading her biography by Judith Tankard, Beatrix Farrand : Private Gardens, Public Landscapes (2009).\nToday, through a set of fortunate circumstances, I get to live all year round on Mount Desert Island and have served as CEO since 2015 of the Mount Desert Land & Garden Preserve, which is entrusted with the care of three Farrand-influenced gardens, including the Abby Aldrich Rockefeller Garden. In case you have never visited the coast of Maine, I should point out that the indigenous vegetation is not exactly floriferous. Coniferous forest predominates, largely composed of red spruce, black spruce, and white pine. There are some deciduous trees on the edges of the coniferous stands, including alders and moosewood maples. The dominant native ground-floor vegetation is largely composed of rhodoras, sweet ferns, huckleberries, blueberries, and northern bayberries. Underneath this typical plant community on Mount Desert Island are numerous ferns, mosses, lichens, and sedges. This plant community makes for a mix of greys and greens, all in contrast to the pink granite outcrops and glacial erratics that you would frequently encounter. Spectacular in its own right, this landscape inspired the formation of Acadia National Park in 1916.\nWith English-style, mixed-herbaceous borders set off within this landscape, the Rockefeller Garden makes an evocative juxtaposition. Designed by Farrand for Abby Aldrich and John D. Rockefeller Jr. from 1926 through the early 1930s, the garden is a sublime mixture of sophisticated design and a complex palette of plants. I was smitten from the outset with the combination of bold floral colors, statuary sourced from Asia, and Beaux-Arts symmetry, provided most prominently by two parallel axes that run the length of the garden and orchestrate the flow for the visitor. The entry axis, called the Spirit Path, is flanked by carved-stone warriors and priests from eighteenth-century Korea. The second axis, parallel to the Spirit Path, provides the central aspect of the garden and its colorful flower borders with a distant view of a round opening called the 'moon gate.' This gate frames the view of a eighteenth-century bronze Buddha in the Shakyamuni, or historical form, from China. As I studied Farrand's designs in more detail, I would learn how the use of such central orienting axes became a hallmark of her designs.\nMany years after visiting Mount Desert Island and the Rockefeller Garden for the first time, I was fortunate enough to visit Dumbarton Oaks. Like an unfolding, complex novel that you just cannot put down, the garden kept leading from one masterfully designed room to the next, with brilliantly placed plants and sublimely scaled spaces. I distinctly remember encountering the camouflage-print bark of a superb Chinese quince, Pseudocydonia sinensis, at the end of a pathway. Overwhelmed by the beauty of this gorgeous tree, I walked off the pathway and gave it a hug.\nWhat is now the Land & Garden Preserve, was conceived in 1970 as a way for Peggy and David Rockefeller to perpetuate the beauty of the Abby Aldrich Rockefeller Garden. They co-inherited the garden with David's older brother, Nelson, after David's father, John D. Rockefeller Jr., passed away in 1960. Soon after Peggy and David formed the Preserve as a non-profit, then known as the 'Island Foundation,' they were asked to manage the nearby Asticou Azalea Garden. Asticou, or the Azalea Garden as it is known locally, had been built beginning in 1956 by Charles K. Savage, using mature plantings from Reef Point, Beatrix Farrand's Bar Harbor estate.\nAnother local garden, Thuya, joined the Preserve in 2000, after its trustees decided that the future of the garden would be in good hands with the growing organization. Thuya's origins date to 1912, when a Boston landscape architect and Northeast Harbor summer resident, Joseph Curtis, constructed his 'rusticator' lodge in Northeast Harbor, naming it for a prominent stand of eastern white cedar, Thuja occidentalis, growing nearby. Charles K. Savage became the trustee of Thuya after Curtis' death in 1929. In 1956, Savage began establishing gardens at both Thuya as well as Asticou, a story for which more detail will be provided below.\nTo celebrate his 100th birthday in 2015, David Rockefeller gifted the Preserve over 1,000 acres of land around Little Long Pond, including over 10 miles of carriage roads and 10 miles of hiking trails. This parcel, too, carried Farrand's legacy: When John D. Rockefeller Jr. was constructing the carriage road system from 1913 until 1940 on what is now both the Preserve and Acadia National Park, Farrand had provided pro-bono consulting on road layout and planting designs. When David Rockefeller passed away in 2017, the Farrand-designed Abby Aldrich Rockefeller Garden joined his gift to the Preserve. Beyond the beauty of the Rockefeller estate in Seal Harbor, Maine, she left an indelible mark within what is now Acadia National Park and the Preserve.\nHer ties to the place were deep. When Farrand was 10 years old, in 1882, her parents bought an ocean-front property called Reef Point in Bar Harbor, facing Frenchman Bay. Her childhood at Reef Point fostered a love of plants and landscapes, and for amusement she dug and transplanted native vegetation from the surrounding forests and combined these with cultivated ornamentals. Farrand's ethos of protecting the natural environment while cultivating intensive gardening spots of horticultural pleasure carries on today at the Preserve with over 1,200 acres of conserved, natural lands connecting our three ornamental gardens.\nAs her interest in landscape design and planting became more of a passion, she was introduced to Charles Sprague Sargent, the first director of the Arnold Arboretum. Sargent agreed to guide Farrand in her self-education in horticulture and garden design from 1893 to 1894, since at that time, no formal training in landscape architecture existed. While studying at the Arnold, she worked with plants at the Arboretum, as well as at the Sargent family's estate, Holm Lea, in Brookline, Massachusetts. In addition to learning about the art and science of horticulture from Sargent, she learned to design landscapes to fit a site rather than change a site to fit a design.\nThe lessons she learned from Sargent carried over as well through the trialing of new plants at Reef Point and elsewhere. From 1946 to 1956, Farrand chronicled the evolution of her Bar Harbor garden along with the noteworthy characteristics of many plants in the 'Reef Point Gardens Bulletin.' Farrand found the climate of Mount Desert Island to be particularly hospitable to climbing vines and in the June 1954 bulletin, she describes some of her favorites. Among her descriptions of Aristolochia spp., Ampelopsis brevipedunculata, Vitis spp., and Lonicera spp., Farrand is particularly hopeful and enamored by a vine that 'Professor Sargent had scornfully described as a 'dud.' This Arnold Arboretum cast-off was Tripterygium regelii. I admittedly had never heard of this Celastraceae member until this mention in the Reef Point Bulletin.\nWhat began as a joint venture with her husband, Max, Farrand continued to develop, seeking to make Reef Point a public teaching garden after his passing in 1945. Max had been the first director of the Huntington Library and Gardens in San Marino, California. The Farrands divided their time between San Marino and Bar Harbor, with a dream of eventually making Reef Point a garden where aspiring horticulturists and garden designers could learn. In October 1947, two years after Max's passing, a massive wildfire burned almost a third of Mount Desert Island, including many grand, oceanside estates. These massive estates had provided the town with substantial tax revenues, now lost to fire. I mention this because Farrand had sought tax exemption of Reef Point as a public garden, and after these fires (which left Reef Point unscathed), the town had to increase tax assessments. With the burden required to keep her gardens afloat, Ms. Farrand ultimately decided to dissolve Reef Point as a lasting garden in 1955.\nBeatrix Farrand's article on 'The Azalea Border' in the April 15, 1949 edition of Arnoldia described the addition of azaleas and other acid-loving plants along Meadow Road by the Arnold Arboretum. Some of the azaleas mentioned in the article included: Rhododendron mucronulatum, R. dauricum, R. canadense, R. vaseyi, R. schlippenbachii, R. arborescens, R. viscosum, R. nudiflorum, R. roseum, and R. calendulaceum. After reading this article from 1949, I began to wonder if Farrand's interest in azaleas was in any way linked between her desire to see what would grow both in Jamaica Plain as well as at her Bar Harbor estate. As I will describe later, many of her plants were subsequently moved from Reef Point to the Asticou Azalea Garden and Thuya Garden by Charles K. Savage. Asticou Azalea has a substantial collection of azaleas, many of them species grown in the Arnold's Azalea Border. Farrand, along with her plant recorder, Marion Ida Spaulding, kept an herbarium of the Reef Point plants. Once Farrand decided to no longer keep Reef Point Gardens going, she sent their plant vouchers to the University of California, Berkeley's herbarium, where I have found 51 vouchers attributed to Reef Point.\nIn 1956, Farrand sold Reef Point to a Maine colleague, Reef Point board member and architect, Robert Patterson, who sold most of the plant collection to Northeast Harbor hotelier and fellow Reef Point board member Charles K. Savage. Lacking the $5,000 needed to purchase and move the collection, Savage was able to convince John D. Rockefeller Jr. to become a financial backer (that $5,000 in 1956 would be worth over $51,000 in 2022). Rockefeller and his wife, Abby, had worked with Farrand for over a decade on the design and construction of their Maine garden, what is now known as the Abby Aldrich Rockefeller Garden. Documents in the Rockefeller family archives show that many of the drawings for the garden and planting designs were by Farrand. After a trip to China in 1921, Abby Rockefeller became enamored with the pink stucco wall around the Forbidden City in what is now Beijing. It served as the inspiration for the wall that surrounds the Abby Garden in Maine.\nOutside of her formal garden designs, Farrand often acted as a consultant to Rockefeller about aesthetic decisions regarding the carriage roads both during and after construction. In correspondence in the Rockefeller Archives Center in Pocantico, New York, Farrand commented that the engineers and tradesmen that Rockefeller had hired to landscape the carriage roads of Acadia National Park were lining trees up like soldiers. She urged Rockefeller toward a more natural arrangement, mixing conifers and deciduous trees of different species and sizes.\nFarrand understood that the natural character of the carriage roads through the park required a more relaxed style than was evident in her notable formal garden designs. In other writings and sketches to Rockefeller, Farrand suggested covering many of the stone bridges with vines such as Parthenocissus quinquefolia (Virginia creeper). In Acadia National Park today, you will find 16 stone bridges built by Rockefeller, none of them covered with vines. Last year I was hiking along Stanley Brook on the southeastern side of Acadia National Park, and I stopped to admire the Stanley Brook Bridge. I noticed that at both ends of the bridge, equally spaced, was a pair of sugar maples. Growing four sugar maples so symmetrically, on both sides of the bridge, would have been a profound work of art for Mother Nature, so I am going to put this down to Farrand at the very least, a reflection of her influence and love of symmetry.\nOnce Charles K. Savage, or 'C.K.' as he was known locally, was able to secure the $5,000 from John D. Rockefeller Jr. for moving the plants from Reef Point to Asticou Azalea and Thuya, he had to act quickly. Savage wrote a narrative to Rockefeller, describing the need for funding and urgency in the matter. The new owner of Reef Point, Robert Patterson, was now responsible for paying taxes on the property and wanted Savage to move the plants before the property would be sold again. The move was done quickly, and records for which and how many plants were relocated remain elusive. White & Franke Tree Service, of Brookline, Massachusetts, with the assistance of various local helpers including Savage's young daughter and son, moved as many plants as possible the 11 miles from Reef Point to Thuya in Northeast Harbor. The Preserve has several historical photos of these plant moves; we thus know that White & Franke assisted with the move, as their company name is on the door of the moving truck. These photographs show that the largest plants were hand-dug, balled and burlapped with drum-laced jute, and moved with what looked like a converted tow truck, the lift on the back of which acted like a small, mobile crane. The plants were healed in and surrounded by mulch at Thuya during the winter of 1956, while construction continued at Asticou with the hauling in of truckloads of soil and stones that would eventually form the framework for the garden. Construction continued at Asticou and plants were moved from their temporary locations at Thuya until the garden was completed in 1958. Savage had also selected plants from the Reef Point collection for Thuya, planted after the Asticou plantings were completed.\nI hoped there was a document to be uncovered in someone's basement, outlining all the plants purchased, moved, and planted by Savage. During research for this article I learned that even Farrand was unsure of what existed at Reef Point. As she was building the collections, she noted her continuous desire to correctly identify the plants in the garden, even bringing William Judd, the Arnold Arboretum's chief propagator, to Maine for help with inventorying the collection. Whether due to the rapid movement of the plants, the transfer of records and herbarium vouchers from Reef Point to Berkeley per Farrand's request, or the inadequate identification of the plants by their owner, the Preserve has never had a consolidated record of what was moved from Reef Point to Asticou and Thuya.\nThe current manager of Asticou Azalea Garden, Mary Roper, has worked to identify the plants under her care for over three decades, including some of the plants moved from Reef Point in 1956. Mary began working at Asticou in 1989, some thirty years after the moves were completed. Over the years, Mary, like Farrand before her, has assessed the nuanced details of flowers, leaves, and stems of the plants under her care to develop a proper identification. Beginning in late 2022, Grace Brown, the Preserve's plant recorder and lead gardener at Asticou, will begin sharing some of these plant records via our new plant records database, accessible at gardenpreserve.org.\nDespite the remaining mysteries, the spirit of what Beatrix Farrand envisioned at Reef Point lives on today at the Preserve, within the gardens of Asticou, Thuya, and Abby Aldrich Rockefeller, as well as in the forests and meadows of our natural lands. This is felt most powerfully at the Abby Garden, with its overall layout, plantings, and ornamentation preserved since the 1920s. Asticou and Thuya were designs of C.K. Savage, but it was the influence of Farrand's relocated plants that completed these garden arrangements. When I tell someone who has visited the Preserve that I work there, 'I just love (insert either Asticou Azalea, Thuya, or Rockefeller Garden here)!' is usually one of the first things I hear in response. When I ask why they love their garden of choice, the responses often embrace the spirit of these places. I felt that special spirit when I first visited the Abby Garden in 1997, and I still sense this every time I visit. When I walk through Thuya, as I brush up against the old Kalmia latifolia that came from Reef Point, a quiet, distinguished vibe seems to emanate from the plants that came from Farrand. Asticou Azalea's design and plant masses are calm and subdued, much like I assume Farrand was during her life. Yet during the spring when the azaleas and cherries burst forth with an explosion of blooms, I can see Farrand's love of beauty in plants and the art of arranging a garden for others to enjoy."},{"has_event_date":0,"type":"arnoldia","title":"The Transatlantic Arboretum in the Nineteenth Century","article_sequence":8,"start_page":32,"end_page":41,"url":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/\/action\/directLinkImage?assetId=25785","featured_photo":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/servlet\/display?file=b34509f9d4e0d15ea76a.jpg","volume":79,"issue_number":"2","year":2022,"series":null,"season":null,"authors":"Elliott, Paul","article_content":"In the summer of 1850, Andrew Jackson Downing embarked on a trip to England, where he toured gardens and rural estates. Downing was then thirty-four years old and had already emerged as a leading American landscape designer and horticultural writer. On the trip, he made a special stop in the midland town of Derby to see a garden known as the Derby Arboretum. The eleven-acre arboretum had been established ten years before, on land given for that purpose by a wealthy local cotton manufacturer, Joseph Strutt. Each tree was clearly labelled, and the arboretum, for two days a week, was completely free and open.\n'As a public garden'the gift of a single individual' it is certainly a most noble bequest,' Downing wrote. 'I met numbers of young people strolling about and enjoying the promenade, plenty of nurses and children gathering health and strength in the fresh air, and, now and then, saw an amateur carefully reading the labels of the various trees and shrubs, and making notes in his memorandums-book.'\nThe Derby Arboretum was distinct for its commitment to the public'even providing access to books so that interested visitors could learn more about the plants growing in the landscape. This commitment, Downing was sure, meant that the Derby Arboretum 'is, and will be, one of the most useful and instructive public gardens in the world.'\nOften considered the first public arboretum, it was designed by the Scottish landscape gardener John Claudius Loudon, who was most responsible for popularizing the term and concept of 'arboretum' during the nineteenth century. Yet public tree collections like those at Derby, and the Arnold Arboretum in the decades to come, did not arise de novo. Rather, the development of these institutions in Britain and the United States during the 'long' nineteenth century (encompassing the period from 1780 to 1919) is best understood as a global' and particularly transatlantic'phenomenon, arising at a time of large-scale immigration, industrialization, and botanical exploration. In that sense, public arboreta were products of changing relationships with the environment and, indeed, among people.\nOrigins of Transatlantic Arboreta\nThe Atlantic world was fertile ground for the formation of tree collections in the parks and gardens of Europe and North America. The vast forests of North America, with their seemingly boundless numbers of trees (many new to European science), inspired the formation of tree collections in those places beginning in the eighteenth century. The biodiversity of the North American forests spanned from subtropical to boreal, from coastal to montane. This diversity across the vast extent of the continent persists to this day, as exemplified by the ninety-nine native species of conifers now believed to exist north of modern Mexico. By contrast, Britain and Ireland have only three native species of conifers'and, in general, far fewer native trees.\nTransatlantic arboreta arose from a combination of tree collecting for gardens and parks and systematic planting in physic (i.e. medicinal) and botanical gardens. American trees themselves played a large part in this process, and were often collected in places known as 'American Gardens' between around 1700 and 1840. The enthusiasm for collecting American trees was encouraged by publications such as Mark Catesby's Hortus Britanno-Americanus, published in 1763, which emphasized the value of these plants for timber, shade, fragrancy, and beauty, holding them superior to British trees. Many American trees and plants were brought over to Britain and Ireland in the colonial period and early decades of the United States, especially through the botanist and explorer John Bartram, who, in the mid-eighteenth century, sent many examples to the English botanist and gardener Peter Collinson. Settlers in the New World also brought numerous trees from'and via'Europe with them, bringing these and trees from eastern North America with them as they moved westwards towards the Pacific during the nineteenth century.\nPlant collectors like Bartram were crucial to the creation of transatlantic arboreta, and came to be seen as heroic figures, making expeditions on behalf of wealthy collectors, nursery companies, governments, and scientific institutions. In his Dendrologia Britannica, published in 1825, the Hull merchant and botanist Peter William Watson praised the 'bold and scientific travellers' traveling throughout North and South America and other regions and identifying thousands of species. One of the most famous plant hunters of the era was the Scotsman David Douglas, who trained at the Glasgow Botanic Garden and made three separate collecting expeditions to North America in the first half of the nineteenth century. His introductions into Britain from the West Coast included the Sitka spruce (Picea sitchensis), Douglas fir (Pseudotsuga menziesii), red alder (Alnus rubra), and many others.\nNursery companies in America and Britain came to specialize in obtaining and selling American plants. The Loddiges company in Hackney, London, for example, had an American Garden, and featured many American trees in their collections and sales catalogues. Loudon used their collections for his research. Wealthy British aristocratic collectors such as the Duke of Devonshire at Chatsworth'a landscape designed by Joseph Paxton, a noted English designer'spared no expense in obtaining 'exotic' trees from America and across the globe for their parks and arboreta with the same eagerness that they acquired antiquities and works of art.\nMeanwhile, in North America, a series of private gardeners began to establish systematic tree collections, although they were not always designated as arboreta. For instance, William Hamilton, a neighbor of the Bartrams, developed his estate known as the Woodlands on the Schuylkill River, then outside of Philadelphia. In the decades following the Revolutionary War, he formed what was then one the largest American tree collections, arranged in the style of an 'English garden.' He toured gardens in Europe and obtained specimens from the Chelsea Physic Garden in London and other international sources. Private collections like this would inspire public institutions to come.\nLiving and Paper Arboreta\nOther inspirations for Atlantic world arboreta were the publication of arboriculture books, which were, in effect, 'paper arboreta.' The writing was informed by living tree collections. General studies of arboriculture grew from classic tree studies such as John Evelyn's Sylva, or a Discourse of Forest Trees, from 1662. The popularity of works such as Erasmus Darwin's epic poem The Botanic Garden, published in 1791, demonstrated how systematic plant collections were gateways to enchanting and exciting scientific worlds. The poem was initially inspired by a botanic garden Darwin established near Lichfield, England, which successfully united landscape beauty with Linnaean botany'and the book was much reprinted in British and American editions.\nHorticultural periodicals such as Loudon's Gardener's Magazine and Downing's The Horticulturist (first issued in 1826 and 1846, respectively) helped build public enthusiasm for trees and landscapes. Both men advocated for the development of arboreta as part of suburban gardens. The collections could be associated with park development or collectively give the appearance of a country park through combination of private gardens, especially in the United States, where there were fewer walls and fences in between plots. Though space for such collections was sometimes limited, especially in Britain, Loudon argued that arboreta were ideal for middle class gardens, even for small houses and gardens.\nMoreover, a series of books on regional and national arboriculture provided lists of hardy British and North American trees and shrubs, contributing to the acquisition and collection of trees. The plants delineated in these publications often came from all over the world, and they were only 'British' or 'American' to the extent that they had proven hardy enough to be grown outside in those places. Watson's Dendrologia Britannica, for example, provided 103 plates of North American trees imported to Britain, alongside others from Southern Europe and West Asia.\nOne of the most influential of these paper arboreta was Loudon's eight-volume Arboretum et Fruticetum Britannicum, from 1838, which inspired the creation of many tree places, including the Derby Arboretum. It was, in many ways, a transatlantic work that drew on arboricultural literature and catalogues from across the Atlantic world to provide a detailed history of trees and shrubs from antiquity to the 1830s . According to William Jackson Hooker, director of the Royal Botanical Gardens at Kew, Loudon's study was a work of 'vast importance' not just to Britain and Europe, but also to 'the temperate parts of North America.' Loudon made full use of a transatlantic network of botanists, gardeners, nurserymen, landowners, and plant collectors who provided him with information and drawings, specimens, seeds, and other tree parts.\nThe first volume of the Arboretum Britannicum included a chapter on American arboriculture informed by American contacts such as the printer Colonel Robert Carr, in Philadelphia, who, with his wife Ann Bartram Carr, had taken over responsibility for maintaining Bartram's Garden. Loudon believed that although American trees and shrubs had been available in British nurseries for decades, many remained under-appreciated, and he hoped the Arboretum Britannicum and the living arboreta it inspired would increase the number and popularity of more public tree places showing off 'living specimens' and capturing imaginations in a way dried herbaria never could.\nPicturesque Naturalism, Tree Planting, and Arboreta\nTrees were also essential to transatlantic conceptions of landscape design, providing beauty, color, contrast, structure, variety, seasonal change, and much more. The dominant Atlantic-world landscape philosophy of the nineteenth century was known as 'English' picturesque naturalism. This style idealized the English landscape, and was widely invoked in garden, park, and arboretum designs. Downing, for example, believed that the style developed in Britain by the English landscape gardener Humphry Repton, Loudon, and others should be applied across North America. According to Downing's pupil and friend the Ohio landscape gardener Frank Jesup Scott, who published a popular book on suburban gardening in 1870, 'compared with the English' the Americans were still 'novices in the fine arts of gardening' and the 'exquisite rural taste' even shared by 'the poorer classes' of England.\nPicturesque naturalism encouraged the positioning of trees and shrubs to achieve effects of openness and simplicity, shelter, shade, and beauty, to obscure boundaries through screen plantings, and to offer the occasional pleasure and sublimity of distant views. The designs often emphasized varied sensory experiences: sloping and terraced ground, shifting light patterns, the sounds of leaves and water, and the changing colors and aromas of trees and floral displays. The movement of birds and wildlife added to this multivarious experience for visitors, especially to the extent that animals (like plants) had their own degree of controlled agency.\nFurther development of this transatlantic landscape gardening philosophy was encouraged by immigration and the movement of people across the Atlantic. British and Irish gardeners and landscape gardeners working in North America brought ideas and methods from home which they adapted to local conditions and contexts. Notably, while Downing was on his British tour in 1850, he met the architect Calvert Vaux and persuaded him to immigrate to America, joining Downing's practice in Newburgh, New York. In the decade to come, Vaux, a Londoner, would employ picturesque naturalism when planning of New York's Central Park, which he codesigned with Frederick Law Olmsted.\nThe careers of Vaux, Downing, and Olmsted, and their many other professional interconnections, illustrate how an international approach to designing with trees took root on both sides of the Atlantic. In the second half of the century, Olmsted became a leading practitioner of picturesque naturalism. Successful picturesque landscapes, according to Olmsted, worked by adapting and evoking nature to produce a 'higher impression of grace than nature minus the agency of man would have produced,' stimulating the 'simplest, purest and most primeval' actions of the poetical side of 'human nature,' offering relief from the overly elaborate but stressful 'sophisticated and artificial conditions of their ordinary civilised life.' In practice, of course, the features held to constitute this language or tradition underwent considerable variation, although it remained particularly important to many North American and British landscape gardeners to claim to be following this tradition. While there was some introduction of formalism and Italianate features from the 1850s and 1860s, the languages of picturesque naturalism remained highly influential throughout the century.19\nArboreta as Public Institutions\nThe appearance of nineteenth-century public parks and arboreta was associated with the development of modern urbanization across the Atlantic world with its new institutions, suburbs, transport systems, built environment, and cultural experiences. Travelers, books, and ideas crisscrossed the Atlantic, encouraged by more rapid and cheaper steam ship lines and technological improvements such as telegraphy and undersea cables. While immigration to North America brought immeasurable human resources, it also increased tensions, clashes of identity, and problems of health and sanitation in towns and cities. As the pattern of immigration changed, bringing new peoples from across the globe, the question of how to adapt British and European landscape gardening ideas and practices to American contexts became more contentious. However, public parks were promoted as rational recreational institutions which could help facilitate assimilation, intercourse between the classes, and American patriotism.\nIn the United States, some of the earliest tree collections in designed public landscapes were associated with suburban garden cemeteries or 'rural cemeteries.' Mount Auburn Cemetery in Cambridge, Massachusetts, was established in 1831 and soon followed by others, including Laurel Hill Cemetery, in Philadelphia. The cemeteries represented the application of landscape gardening aesthetics and practices. In London, Abney Park opened in 1840 and included collections that were formally laid out, at least in part, as a labelled arboretum. The landscapes were portrayed as sacred places where family members and others could repose in quiet contemplation amidst appropriately somber planting, particularly yews (Taxus), Scots pine (Pinus sylvestris), and other evergreens and columnar trees associated with mourning.\nEncouraged by Loudon in particular, a series of public and semi-public arboreta were established in Britain from the 1830s, while many new public parks and botanical gardens also featured arboreta. Arboreta were opened at Derby (1840), Nottingham (1852), Ipswich (1853), Worcester (1859), Lincoln (1872), Walsall (1874), and other places, some by commercial companies such as the Walsall Arboretum and Lake Company but most increasingly by town councils. The picturesque arboretum in Nottingham was noteworthy for its integration within a larger parks system, which was made possible by a large-scale enclosure act in 1845, which freed up common land for housing and park development. The scheme included a network of tree-lined avenues and parks. However, the botanical aspirations of these institutions as systematic tree collections tended to decline as their role as public pleasure gardens increased.\nAs one of Loudon's few realized park designs, much notice was taken of the Derby Arboretum. Downing, of course, had visited while on his tour in 1850. At the time, he was designing extensive public grounds in Washington, which incorporated a garden of American trees and a living 'museum' of evergreens, and he was actively urging the creation of a large park in New York. His experience observing British and European parks undoubtedly informed his thinking about the role of planting systematic collections. Although it was not executed, his plans for a public park in Boston for the Massachusetts Horticultural Society included a scientifically arranged arboretum.\nThe public parks of Britain provided important inspiration for Olmsted as well. Like Downing, he embarked on a tour of Britain, Ireland, and other parts of Europe in 1850. While he did not visit the Derby Arboretum on that trip, he made an inspirational stop at a new public garden in Birkenhead, a suburb of Liverpool. Like the Derby Arboretum, the gates of Birkenhead Park were open to the public without a fee 'but in this case for the whole week. It had been laid out by Joseph Paxton, who had designed other noteworthy landscapes including the arboretum and pinetum in the Chatsworth House gardens' Downing's favorite. Olmsted described Birkenhead Park as the 'People's Garden.' He was delighted by the winding paths and avenues and clusters of trees, set within wide, rolling lawns.\n'All this magnificent pleasure-ground is entirely, unreservedly, and for ever the people's own,' Olmsted wrote of Birkenhead Park. 'The poorest British peasant is as free to enjoy it in all its parts as the British queen.' The design and public function of Birkenhead Park would later serve as inspiration for Central Park. Olmsted revisited it as part of his investigation on the development of Central Park for the New York commissioners in 1859. On the same trip, he also paid a visit to the Derby Arboretum.\nA Public Arboretum in North American\nDespite growing interest in arboreta on both sides of the Atlantic in the mid-nineteenth century, a public arboretum with intentionally designed, labelled collections had yet to be established in the United States. There were proposals to plant the National Mall in Washington as an arboretum associated with the Smithsonian Institution, focusing upon American natives of some two thousand trees, and about two hundred species and varieties and counterpart to indoor natural history museum. Downing surveyed the landscape and produced designs for this in 1850 and 1851, after returning from his tour of British and European parks and arboreta. Support for concept of a national botanical garden had grown during the 1840s, including from Asa Gray, the professor of botany at Harvard and the director of the Harvard Botanic Garden. He had called for a national arboretum in 1844, emphasizing the research on American trees that had already been conducted by Andre and Francois Michaux and others.\nDowning's plan was for a public arboretum of labelled hardy trees and shrubs laid out in the natural style for educational and botanical purposes, and it included a pinetum. He also designed a picturesque garden surrounding the Smithsonian Institution formed with rare trees and shrubs. Although Downing's Washington plans were not implemented and Downing died in a boat accident in 1852 the concept of a national arboretum was ultimately realized outside the capital with the establishment of the Arnold Arboretum in 1872.\nThe Arnold Arboretum was integrated within a broader park scheme developed in Boston by Olmsted and the landscape architect Charles Eliot from the 1880s. The system, now known as the Emerald Necklace, consisted of a series of public parks connected by tree-lined parkways. Olmsted had proposed a similar concept in his report to the Brooklyn park commissioners in 1868. The integration of urban public parks using planted parkways hastened the development of urban forestry across the Atlantic world, and there was growing recognition that this was a distinctive endeavor which required special methods and expertise. There was also increasing emphasis upon the psychological and physical health benefits of trees in modern urban environments, although pollution, traffic, and buildings presented problems for planters.\nPart of Harvard University, the Arnold Arboretum would be free to the public all day, every day of the year. It expanded in a remarkably short space of time into a leading global arboretum guided by a director, Charles Sprague Sargent, whose longevity was hardly to be paralleled. However, the success also arose from its combination of elements of arboreta established across the Atlantic world over the previous century and collective body of arboricultural wisdom and experience. It combined picturesque naturalism with systematic tree collection, offering a place of study, recreation, and changing seasonal beauty. It was this that informed Sargent and Olmsted's collaborative design for the Arnold Arboretum.\nEgalitarian Ideals\nAlthough Loudon, Downing, and other arboretum promoters in the early and mid-nineteenth century argued that arboreta (like public parks generally) had recreational as well as scientific and horticultural functions, arboreta often remained associated with aristocratic and wealthy landowners and institutions with enough land, staff, and resources to form comprehensive collections with exotic trees and shrubs from around the world, some rare and expensive. The Arnold Arboretum's position as a part of Harvard University is a case in point.\nGiven these realities, nineteenth-century arboreta, like botanical gardens and parks, were idealized and often rather controlled, artificial, and regulated places. However, Loudon was motivated to promote them assiduously because he believed in their egalitarian possibilities, as did Olmsted. Loudon's gardening and natural-history magazines were intended to be forums that could be used by all social classes, from landed elites to gardeners, nurserymen, and women, and he strongly believed that gardeners ought to have a much fuller scientific professional education and have greater social status. As part of national, regional, or urban civic culture, arboreta had the power to transcend social divisions such as those between different social and ethnic groups (for example immigrant communities in North America) and between town and countryside, metropolis and nation.\nWhile nineteenth-century botanical gardens and arboreta were associated with trade, empire, and colonial exploitation, Loudon believed that this exchange of plant material would lead to global 'equalisation' of tree species, to the benefit all nations. 'If it is desirable for us that we should assemble in our country the trees and shrubs of every other similar climate,Loudon pointed out, 'it must be equally desirable that the inhabitants of every other similar climate should possess all those species for which their climate is adapted.'\nConclusion\nIn 1868, Josiah Hoopes, a nurseryman from West Chester, Pennsylvania, wrote that he believed his fellow American citizens were 'vastly behind' their 'transatlantic brethren' in the provision of tree collections' specifically collections of conifers. Yet, with the onset of the First World War, the initial decades of the twentieth century presented significant challenges for arboreta and gardens in Britain. Many of the arboreta established on country parks and estates declined because of general problems faced by the wealthy landed classes and their country houses after the war. British public arboreta such as those at Derby, Nottingham, Lincoln, Ipswich, and Walsall effectively ceased to be maintained as systematic tree collections for educational and scientific purposes and became indistinguishable from other urban parks.\nOn the other hand, with the professional development of forestry, urban forestry, and municipal horticulture, new arboreta were developed by the mid-twentieth century on both sides of the Atlantic. The most resilient British arboreta were those that remained parts of wealthy landed estates or academic institutions. Other long-term successes were arboreta that were acquired or developed by organizations such as the Forestry Commission or National Trust, the leading English quasi-governmental heritage organization founded in 1895 to 'preserve historical and natural places.'\nIn 1925, more than half a century after the creation of the Arnold Arboretum, Ernest Henry Wilson, the British plant explorer who became the Arnold's first keeper of the living collections, wrote that the number of visitors who journeyed from around the world to the tree collections in Boston increased by the thousands each year. He described the institution as 'America's Greatest Garden,' reasoning that because its raison d\u0550tre focused 'solely' upon the 'acclimatization, cultivation and study of hardy trees and shrubs,' the institution was entirely unique, even among European peers. Certainly, it had grown in a relatively short space of time into a peerless global institution, guided by Sargent, with a clear mission and supportive organizational structure.\nWhile Loudon's belief in the ideal of tree equalization across the continents is complicated in today's world of looming environmental crisis, the arboriculture practiced at the Arnold Arboretum from Sargent's day to the present has taken on a new urgency as the need to understand how trees respond to climate change becomes crucial. While Wilson's argument that the Arnold Arboretum brought man nearer unto man without boundary of race and creed remained an ideal rather than reality in an age of imperialism, oppression of Native American peoples, and continuing racial tensions, it is now beginning to be realized, aided by the collective desire to face the climate threat together as a global community, and to celebrate the symbolic value of public arboreta uniting trees from around the world for all to study and enjoy."},{"has_event_date":0,"type":"arnoldia","title":"Drawn to the Edges","article_sequence":9,"start_page":42,"end_page":47,"url":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/\/action\/directLinkImage?assetId=25784","featured_photo":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/servlet\/display?file=b34509f9d4e0d15ea726.jpg","volume":79,"issue_number":"2","year":2022,"series":null,"season":null,"authors":"Angell, Bobbi","article_content":"Living in southern Vermont, I am surrounded by lush forests and verdant fields. There is so much to observe while trying to decide what to draw! Hobblebush (Viburnum lantanoides) has always been one of my favorite shrubs, with attractive winter buds, brilliant white flowers that light up the edge of woods in the early spring, and rich fruits in the fall, soon after eaten by birds. A single seedling, such as Pagoda dogwood (Cornus alternifolia) is far simpler to draw, but equally satisfying to find and turn into a copper etching.\nI have been drawing plants professionally for over forty years, and have always been obsessed with the precise detail that can be achieved with pen and ink. Several years ago, master printmaker Brian Cohen introduced me to the intricate art of copper etching, and I was immediately smitten. Accustomed to working within a defined space for publication, I appreciate the sharp boundaries of a copper plate. And since an etched copper plate is printed as a mirror image onto the paper, I work on my designs in reverse, checking it out on tracing paper and lightbox.\nThe final sketch is transferred onto a waxy ground application on a copper plate, and then I 'needle' it, scratching the wax with a sharp needle under my microscope, impressing fine lines and stipples, creating soft tones dot by dot. The plate is then etched with ferric chloric acid, printed as a test, and then reworked two, three, or more times to add more detail and depth. I use oil-based ink, rubbed onto the copper, cleaned first with fine cheesecloth-like fabric and then wiped with my hand. Each print is done, one by one, on water-soaked paper on my Ettan Press. I add watercolor to a select few of my editions. The editions are limited, usually 20 or 30 prints.\nPrimarily a scientific illustrator, I am attracted to unusual plants, reflecting my long history working with botanists and horticulturalists. I created a collection of such etchings for an exhibit with Beverly Duncan at The Arnold in 2018 (Impressions of Woody Plants: Disjunction, Two Artists and the Arnold Arboretum). As Beverly and I walked around the Arboretum with Michael Dosmann, planning the exhibit, I saw the gorgeous Chinese sweetbush (Calycanthus chinensis) in full bloom. Having learned it had been introduced into cultivation in the 1980s, I eagerly went out to purchase a shrub to grow, and draw, in my own garden. Also impressive is seven son flower (Heptacodium miconoides), the elegant, fall-blooming flowers and fruits of which I had seen at The New York Botanical Garden. Arnold Arboretum staff had collected seeds from a garden in China in 1980, raising plants for other institutions, including the NYBG. Within a few decades, seven son flower, too, had become commercially available, and so I was able to grow it and turn it into a copper etching. Tea viburnum (Viburnum setigerum), too, I first encountered at the NYBG, where I learned it had been introduced by the Arnold's E. H. Wilson in 1901. Corylus fargesii was commissioned for Curtis's Botanical Magazine, describing the introduction of a wonderful woody plant from China. The Arnold Arboretum has over a dozen plants in the collection. Magnolia loebneri 'Merrill', one of the finest hybrids ever released by the Arnold Arboretum, and named in honor of director Elmer Drew Merrill, was in full bloom during an early-spring visit to Smith College, stunning flowers displayed before the foliage leafed out. I was quite pleased when the Arnold Arboretum chose to use the resulting illustration for a logo for Arnold Selects (see page 7), a newly created program to bring exceptional plants from the living collections to gardeners around the world. "},{"has_event_date":0,"type":"arnoldia","title":"What in the World is a Species?","article_sequence":10,"start_page":48,"end_page":53,"url":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/\/action\/directLinkImage?assetId=25783","featured_photo":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/servlet\/display?file=b34509f9d4e0d15ea36e.jpg","volume":79,"issue_number":"2","year":2022,"series":null,"season":null,"authors":"Donoghue, Michael J.","article_content":"Many people are aware that species have formal names with two parts a genus name combined with what's called a specific epithet. Homo sapiens is a well-known example; for botanists, Ginkgo biloba will do. In their fullest form, they also include the name (or abbreviation) of the person or people who originally described the species. Homo sapiens was described by Carl Linnaeus in 1758, and in 1771 he named Ginkgo biloba, so you may see his initials after these names: Homo sapiens L., Ginkgo biloba L. There are very detailed (and ever-evolving) rules for how the description of a new species must be done for the name to be considered validly published. In botany, we refer to the International Code of Nomenclature for Algae, Fungi, and Plants for the exact procedures. It turns out that anyone yourself included can describe a new species if they follow these rules. You don't have to be certified as an authority to do this. Once you've published your new species, it generally would have one of two fates. Your new species could stand the test of time, in the sense that knowledgeable botanists would adopt it when they conduct their studies. However, unless you really know what you are doing, in 2022, it's likely you have named something that has previously been described. In this case, your proposed species name would be regarded as a synonym of the earlier one, and would henceforth be ignored.\nA key point is that you can validly publish a species name only to have it rejected by other botanists on the grounds that they don't consider it to be a 'real' species. This implies that there are some criteria being applied by scientists to judge whether something is a real species or not. It seems reasonable to assume that long ago there would have been agreement on what a species is on a species concept. This, however, is not the case. In fact, many different definitions of species have been published over the years, and to this day there are major camps of biologists who disagree (sometimes passionately) over which should be adopted as the universal standard.\nThe use of different species concepts by different scientists has a very important consequence: the various species that you are familiar with may not be equivalent to one another in ecological, evolutionary, or organismic terms. For the most part, however, we proceed as though they are. By 'we,' I mean not just the general public, but also the scientific community, who, despite knowing full well that multiple concepts are in use, still treat species as being somehow equal to one another. In reality, the only equivalence you can count on when you see species names is that they have been named according to some agreed-upon rules, and that they haven't been rejected by the scientific community. The potential non-comparability of species seems like a recipe for miscommunication. We proceed under the hope that species will somehow be 'equal enough' for most purposes, and that the differences among species won't interfere too much with scientific progress or public understanding.\nThe best-known definition, provided by ornithologist Ernst Mayr in 1942 and widely taught in introductory biology classes since the 1950s, is short and snappy: 'species are groups of actually or potentially interbreeding natural populations, which are reproductively isolated from other such groups.' This is the so-called 'biological species concept,' which many biologists accept in theory, although information on which organisms can interbreed is almost always lacking in practice. So, one generally just assumes such gene flow based on similarities and differences in the visible characteristics of the organisms, hoping that actual interbreeding will be tested directly someday. It has long been pointed out, however, that interbreeding and reproductive isolation aren't relevant criteria for organisms that reproduce through asexual reproduction. Such is the case with many bacteria, for instance, and with some plants as well. And there's the associated question of whether any level of interbreeding could or should be tolerated. This has been a special concern for botanists, where hybridization is often possible between species that appear to be quite distantly related (consider all of the strange orchids that have been produced in this way).\nAlthough the biological species concept is the most widely known, there are a variety of alternatives that feature different criteria. One such alternative focuses on species as occupying particular ecological niches that differ from related species. Another one focuses on shared common ancestry, delimiting species based on evidence that certain organisms and populations share a common ancestor separate from related species.\nOne concept I find especially appealing is known as the 'evolutionary species concept,'proposed by the paleontologist George Gaylord Simpson in 1951. Working with fossils of long-dead mammals, he wanted to take the emphasis off of interbreeding (which he certainly couldn't test). Instead, he conceptualized species in terms of a full evolutionary life cycle, from inception to extinction. Simpson said a species is: 'a phyletic lineage (ancestral-descendant sequence of interbreeding populations) evolving independently of others, with its own separate and unitary evolutionary role and tendencies.' Under this view, the populations that we study today are time slices through an extended lineage evolving independently of other lineages. This concept provides a nice image of species, though for many people, 'role and tendencies' have seemed a bit squishy and difficult criteria to apply in practice.\nOne very nice 'solution' to the species problem was proposed by herpetologist Kevin de Queiroz in 1998, and reinforced in his subsequent work (e.g., de Queiroz, 2005). He noted that all of these concepts focus on populations or lineages extended through time and evolving independently of one another. In his view, reproductive isolation, ecological differentiation, and exclusive shared ancestry may arise in different temporal sequences as the process of speciation (the origin of independently-evolving lineages) proceeds. At any given point in the process, species might have some of these properties, and not others. For example, gene flow may be cut off early in the process, perhaps by the simple geographic separation of populations, as compared to, for example, ecological differentiation.\nUnder de Queiroz's so-called 'general lineage concept' of species, phenomena formally viewed as necessary and sufficient defining criteria for species-hood, are instead understood to bear on whether, in fact, two lineages are evolving separately. If we find, for example, that the organisms in two populations are unable to breed successfully with one another, this provides pretty good evidence that the populations are evolving separately. Likewise, the finding that populations are occupying different ecological niches provides evidence of independence, as do consistent differences in morphological characteristics. These things don't define species, but instead help us to discover them.\nThe general lineage concept of species has been steadily gaining popularity among evolutionary biologists, but it is still far from universally accepted. Personally, I like it very much, but would stress a few additional points. First, I think that the delimitation of a species is best viewed as putting forward a hypothesis to be tested with evidence of lineage independence coming from as many different angles as possible. By this I mean to include not only information on breeding, but on geography, morphology, DNA sequences, ecology, and a host of other criteria. Second, I would like to preserve Simpson's reference to the future and predicting the likely fate of a lineage. It seems reasonable to add into the decision-making process whether it seems likely that two lineages will continue to evolve independently into the future. Evidence bearing on fate may also come in different forms. For example, consider the two species of tulip tree: the familiar eastern North American Liriodendron tulipifera, and the eastern Asian Liriodendron chinense. These can readily be hybridized, and the offspring plants (L. tulipifera chinense) are fertile. Living proof of this can be found at the Arnold Arboretum, on the lawn in front of the Hunnewell Building. But, it seems reasonable to suppose, based on their very widely separated geographic ranges, that individuals of these two species will not naturally be exchanging genes any time in the foreseeable future. Finally, I also really like the reference to 'tendencies,' as this highlights the idea that a separately evolving lineage will often show a propensity to generate certain variants again and again as compared to another species. Mind you, I don't at all mean to suggest that such tendencies should define species; rather, in keeping with the general lineage concept, they can potentially serve as evidence of independent evolution.\nAllow me to end with a few observations about my own favorite plant group, Viburnum. When I was a graduate student at Harvard, in the late 1970s, I lived on the grounds of the Arnold Arboretum, at what used to be 383 South Street. Of course, I wandered the grounds often, and it was there that I became well acquainted with around 40 of the roughly 165 Viburnum species, many of them from eastern Asia, where Viburnum is the most diverse. You can learn a lot about species differences in an arboretum, but not nearly enough to critically assess their evolutionary independence from one another. For one thing, you don't see the species that can't be grown in the arboretum (e.g., Viburnum species from tropical forests in Borneo, or from high elevations in the Andes), or the many species that could potentially be grown but have never been brought into cultivation. And, you really need to study organisms in their natural surroundings to understand the range of variation that they exhibit, their ecological niches, and which species might encounter one another in the wild.\nI did, however, manage to observe something about Viburnum species that has turned out to be more important than I ever imagined. I went out on a regular basis to record the times when plants of different Viburnum species were flowering in the arboretum. I found that they were flowering each year in a consistent sequence, staggered through the spring and early summer. In fact, these observations were the basis of my very first publication, in 1980, which happened to be in Arnoldia, and was entitled 'Flowering times in Viburnum.'\nAs we have learned since that time, related species of Viburnum living in the same geographic area very often flower at different times, which means that they are reproductively isolated from one another in this temporal way. For example, as shown recently by my former graduate student Elizabeth Spriggs, the species of the Viburnum lentago complex in eastern North America (nannyberry and its relatives) bloom at different times, and this minimizes hybridization between them where their geographic ranges overlap (Spriggs et al., 2019a; Spriggs, 2019). We know that individuals of these different species can breed together successfully. In fact, Viburnum jackii, a hybrid between V. lentago and V. prunifolium, was described from a plant first noticed in 1908 at the Arnold Arboretum. However, in the wild these species rarely do hybridize, simply because they are flowering a week or so apart. Importantly, given the discussion above, I am not supporting the biological species concept with this observation. Instead, I am adopting the general lineage concept and using this flowering offset as one line of evidence that these are time-extended lineages evolving on their own.\nI hope that these few reflections will heighten your appreciation of species when you see your next specimen label in the Arnold Arboretum-- perhaps even a Viburnum lentago L. plant in the superb Viburnum collection near the Centre Street Gate!\nReferences\nde Queiroz, K. 1998. The general lineage concept of species, species criteria, and the process of speciation. In D. J.\nHoward and S. H. Berlocher, eds. Endless Forms: Species and Speciation. Oxford University Press. Pp. 57\u00d075.\nde Queiroz, K. 2005. Ernst Mayr and the modern concept of species. Proc. Natl. Acad. Sci. USA 102: 6600\u00d06607.\nDonoghue, M. J. 1980. Flowering times in Viburnum. Arnoldia 40: 2\u00d022.\nMayr, E. 1942. Systematics and the Origin of Species. Columbia Univ. Press, New York.\nSimpson, G. G. 1951. The species concept. Evolution 5: 285\u00d0298.\nSpriggs, E. L. 2019. The Viburnum lentago clade: A continental radiation. Arnoldia 77: 10\u00d019.\nSpriggs, E. L., C. Schlutius, D. A. R. Eaton, B. Park, P. W. Sweeney, E. J. Edwards, and M. J. Donoghue. 2019a. Differences in flowering time maintain species boundaries in a continental radiation of Viburnum. Amer. J. Bot. 106: 833\u00d0849.\nSpriggs, E. L., D. A. R. Eaton, P. W. Sweeney, C. Schlutius, E. J. Edwards, and M. J. Donoghue. 2019b. Restriction-site-associated DNA sequencing reveals a cryptic Viburnum species on the North American coastal plain. Syst. Biol. 68: 187\u00d0203."},{"has_event_date":0,"type":"arnoldia","title":"A New Way for the Norway Mapl","article_sequence":11,"start_page":54,"end_page":57,"url":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/\/action\/directLinkImage?assetId=25782","featured_photo":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/servlet\/display?file=b34509f9d4e0d14e896b.jpg","volume":79,"issue_number":"2","year":2022,"series":null,"season":null,"authors":"Contreras, Ryan","article_content":"The summers of my youth in Eastern North Carolina smelled of Chinese privet (Ligustrum sinense) and Japanese honeysuckle (Lonicera japonica). As a kid, I loved playing with the tiny 'berries' of the privet and sucking the nectar from the honeysuckle flowers. Warm memories aside, these two species are landscape plants turned weeds, which escaped cultivation and invaded large areas across the Southeast. As someone who works with the nursery industry and specifically with this issue of weedy or invasive plants, it sometimes feels that folks believe all introduced plants are bad, and we should only grow natives to protect our ecosystems.\nWe should think, however, about what is it we are asking our landscape plants to do. In the city, we want them to survive stress, even to flourish. We want to punish them with drought, heat, pavement, and poor and compacted soils while still enjoying their shade, beautiful flowers, lovely scent, and fruit. Whether native or introduced, plants that thrive well enough to escape cultivation are doing exactly what we asked of them.\nI often hear that we should only plant native plants because they are best adapted to a site or region. If that is the case, how do the non-native and introduced species outcompete them? There also are 'native' plants that have become 'invasive': western juniper, for instance, now covers more than 2 million acres of grassland in Oregon, its spread aided by fire suppression. We need plants that do well in our cities. We should care less about their provenance and focus more on their behavior. The problem isn't trees that flourish, but trees that won't stay where we put them.\nTake the Amur and Norway maples, two resilient species commonly found in our cities. Easy for producers to grow, they thrive where other species may not survive. Amur maple is hardy to USDA Zone 2, fitting the bill for a small urban tree in regions short on options of plants from which to choose. Norway maple is hardy to USDA Zone 4, making it suitable as a medium to large tree in most of the US. Both are relatively free of major pest problems, and transplant well. Norway maple is also incredibly well-adapted to heavy clay and compacted soils, tolerates pollution, and holds up better to drought conditions than sugar maple. Unfortunately, both have done their job too well, and have escaped cultivation to invade native forests and cause real problems in several parts of the country. As an urban tree, however, they fit the bill incredibly well, helping to ameliorate the heat-island effect, manage stormwater, and beautify our paved metropolises. It is not surprising that such resilient trees can outcompete other species.\nOn Burnside Avenue in downtown Portland, Oregon, just down the street from Powell's City of Books, there is a planting of Norway maple that separates opposing lanes of traffic. The soil volume is tiny, and tall buildings loom on either side. Yet, these Norway maples are gorgeous; more than 35 feet tall and healthy, they cover most of the five-lane driving surface and cast shade on the sidewalks for pedestrians. Contrast this to urban instances of our native bigleaf maple, such as the large specimen near Valley Library here on the Corvallis Campus, or the majestic tree that greets you as you set out on the trail at Hoyt Arboretum in Portland. These are 'easy' sites for trees, with large soil volumes and little compaction. You will not find bigleaf maples adorning streets like Burnside Avenue, however.\nWe could alter conditions to suit bigleaf maple redeveloping our cities for more soil volume, less concrete, and less pollution but that does not seem likely. Alternatively, we could breed more resilient bigleaf maples a path that is being explored, but likely will take a very long time.\nMy research program is making great progress pursuing a third option: breeding Amur and Norway maples that stay put where we plant them. We want to provide growers, land managers, and the public the utility of resilient trees that are good for cities, but also do not reproduce in sufficient numbers to displace our native flora.\nHere, it's worth mentioning 'Bradford' pear. Perhaps the most numerous of the many cultivars of Pyrus calleryana, it has become the poster child for invasive plants. Smelly, weedy, fragile in ice storms, it's the tree people love to hate. 'Bradford' and other pears are self-incompatible, which means they need another genotype to fertilize their ovules and form seeds. Soon as new cultivars were introduced these genotypes started cross-pollinating and producing fruit, soon becoming the weed we know today. Pyrus 'NCPX2', the Chastity\u00a8 pear developed by Tom Ranney of North Carolina State University, by contrast, was recently tested for fertility compared to wild-type, and is not merely self-incompatible. Chastity\u00a8 is a triploid that is, it has three sets of chromosomes. This odd ploidy (number of chromosome sets) disrupts normal formation of pollen and eggs, resulting in a plant that infrequently or never produces viable seeds. The most famous triploid out there is banana. If you have enjoyed a 'Cavendish' dessert banana, then you have enjoyed a delicious fruit rendered seedless through triploidy.\nThough there are reported examples of Norway maple exhibiting reduced seed set or seed germination, in my experience these cultivars are perfectly fertile. It is unclear in what contexts the trees have set seed, but these cultivars are not sterile across environments thus my reluctance to use the word 'sterile' in context of seed set. As with most cases in nature, there is a gradient from perfectly fertile wild-type down to complete sterility. As such, I try to stick with 'reduced fertility' as the descriptor for cultivars that reproduce at such a low level as to pose no ecological threat.\nThe first step in the process was to induce chromosome doubling of standard diploid plants (containing two sets of chromosomes) to develop tetraploids (plants with four sets of chromosomes). We planted our tetraploids alongside diploid cultivars at our field in Corvallis and allowed them to open pollinate. We collected seed from the tetraploids, grew seedlings, and tested their ploidy level. Fortunately, most of these seedlings were triploid they received two sets of chromosomes from their tetraploid female parent and one set from their diploid male parent. Furthermore, these seedlings are not genetic composite (chimeras), but are triploid in all cell layers, and thus highly stable from one generation to the next.\nTen years after starting this project, I published the results of this work in 2020 in the journal Horticulturae. But the work in so many ways is just beginning. To produce the seedless trees we desire, they must be propagated clonally. Traditionally, Norway maples (and Amur, too, in some nurseries) have been chip budded, grafting the cultivar of interest to seedling rootstocks. While this production system speeds up the production and quantities of triploid clones, we need a new tactic. This is because we must avoid at all costs grafting our sterile triploids onto fertile diploid rootstocks rootstocks that can sometimes send up their own shoots and eventually produce seeds, which happened with callery pear. For Amur maple, this is not a major problem, as it readily roots from stem cuttings. For Norway maple, which does not, we have been working to optimize cutting propagation. We now have triploid genotypes of both species, which we are growing via micropropagation, using sterile culture in vitro to multiply plants in large numbers relatively quickly. This technique is used in many taxa that would otherwise be slow to increase using other methods, such as hazelnuts (Corylus avellana). It also is frequently used in red maple as a means to increase and distribute clean clonal material. Our triploid plants will be ready to come out of micropropagation and harden off to begin production trials during 2022.\nEvidence of reduced fertility gives us much reason to hope. Amur maple triploids in our plots have flowered in the presence of pollinators and fertile pollen donors and have produced no viable seeds to date. While this inspires confidence, I am not ready to bet the farm or rather, to have growers bet theirs. Our next step is to work with nurseries, universities, and public gardens around the country to install replicated tests of our trees to see how they perform in other environments. The stakes are too high not to verify.\nOf course, my title is Ornamental Plant Breeder, so the trees resulting from this work should have some aesthetic appeal. To that end, we are working with J. Frank Schmidt and Son Nursery along with Tom Ranney to evaluate seedlings of Amur maple selected at JFS in Boring, NC State in Mills River, and Corvallis, OR. Ten genotypes from each location were propagated during 2021 under production conditions to identify superior forms. Furthermore, the trees from micropropagation will be included in a parallel study. The end goal is to develop and test trees according to the best scientific methods we have, while working with growers to ensure that we are meeting their needs for trees that work in production.\nThere is no doubt of the need. Industry partners report more than 90% reduction in Norway maple sales, with steep declines in Amur maple as well. Certainly, overplanting of maples has reduced demand, but the invasive issue has also had an impact, and the industry is ready for cultivars of these species that could be sold in longstanding markets such as the upper Midwest and New England.\nEvidence indicates the trees I have developed (and those of my colleagues like Dr. Ranney) are 'sterile,' or close enough that they present no threat of invasion. The biological side of the problem is largely solved. What remains is the political aspect, which in many ways is more difficult. The story of 'Bradford,' damaging in its lack of nuance, has spread effectively, and plants like Norway maple may prove difficult to reintroduce as a result. Already it is illegal to plant A. platanoides in Massachusetts, and many other states a rule which leaves no room for reduced-fertility cultivar exemptions.\nWe need a national conversation on this topic in the Green Industry, to collectively establish the framework for reintroduction of sterile versions of weedy species. The specifics of individual plants are highly regional, and thresholds should be determined at a state level, but the issue is a national one. The shade of that tree you're enjoying on the east coast may have gotten its start here in Oregon. As such, the rules enacted in Massachusetts have wide-ranging impact. The need for education, collaboration, and nuanced regulation will only grow, so long as cities remain, and climate change increases the demand for resilient trees."},{"has_event_date":0,"type":"arnoldia","title":"What Clings to the Roots","article_sequence":12,"start_page":58,"end_page":59,"url":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/\/action\/directLinkImage?assetId=25781","featured_photo":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/servlet\/display?file=b34509f9d4e0d14e8927.jpg","volume":79,"issue_number":"2","year":2022,"series":null,"season":null,"authors":"Battles, Matthew","article_content":"The morning we moved out of my childhood home, the new owner pulled up with a small tractor to uproot the Forsythia hedge, my mother's pride. It was late April, I think, as the bushes were in bloom; sprays of yellow blossoms shivered as the backhoe groaned and clawed at the plantings. I was shocked by how easily they came up, ungainly roots whipsawing as they shook loose from earth. My mother sobbed as we drove away. And yet soil clings to the roots; an ecology shifts intact. To uproot is an ambivalent move, metaphorically: is it about the fragility of attachments, or their stubbornness to endure?\nSalom\u017d Jashi's Taming the Garden opens with a tree shimmering on the horizon, rooted in the liquid tumble of the sea. Lashed to the deck of a barge, its headway is barely perceptible against the lowering sky. The barge sails under the orders of Georgian oligarch Bidzina Ivanishvili, whose minions search farm and forest for the prodigious trees he has uprooted and moved to his 'dendrological park' in Shekvetili, a resort town on Black Sea coast. We never see Ivanishvili; no agents or officials sit to offer apologies or explanations to the camera. The oligarch's name is only occasionally uttered by workmen and townspeople, and he remains a minor character, his motives a mystery to the people whose trees he takes. One man claims to have read that 'it prolongs his life' to collect trees, if their age is greater than one hundred years. Some praise his enterprise, while others boggle at the cost of the operation. 'No matter how much a villain he is,' another exclaims, 'at least he's doing something!'\nTownspeople gawk at their trees on the move. Their faces register the dappled play of emotions, from grief to wonder, as workers cut, dig, and lever at giant trees a towering tulip, goblet-shaped and elegant; a bounteous linden growing close by an old house; a chestnut with two splayed leaders that swing like the arms of a drunken giant. Their slow severance from the earth is both clumsy and precise, a kind of terrestrial surgery, at once an amputation and a deliverance of tender care. Jashi allows the sensuous overwhelm of these labors to fill her frame: a trench dug round the tree, the earth wrapped with sheets and shored up with boards, and a framework of pipes bored through below, driven home with rust-streaked drilling augers. The scale of the work matters to Jashi: we see men chopping, sawing, dragging brush, dwarfed by walls and mounds of foliage. A backhoe swings into view, framing the shot like a great mechanized tree; from another angle, viewed downslope through a colonnade of what look like hemlocks, the same machine looks minuscule. During a break, the crew sit around a fire of brush and reminisce. They agree that the trees are very beautiful. 'Life takes strange turns,' says one.\nJashi is a generous storyteller, and patient. Long takes invite us to ponder how a mature tree organizes its surrounding space: the way the earth bunches muscularly at the roots; how its shade selects and prunes the vegetation; above all, the way it pigments and concentrates the air in its branches. And then we watch the slow, uncanny spectacle of this composition deconstructed, as yet another great tree is carved out of the ground, jacked onto a carriage, and towed off, leaving a crumbling pit of soil to fill up with new vegetation.\nI think of those islands of earth cut and carried away, with their cryptic assemblages of fungi and invertebrates, to be installed in the oligarch's faraway estate, ferns and flowering plants bobbing in the shade of a tree transported over the sea. The trees' communities exceed grasses, forbs, and fungi, however, rooted as they are in the loam of family and village. Local people gather in the night to watch as a towed tree sways in spotlight gleam. 'It's so beautiful in the night,' one says. 'Like a fairytale.' 'It won't survive,' says another, 'it's shrunk so much.' An old woman confronts the cutters: 'she planted this tree,' her companion warns the foreman; 'what we do in this world will be judged in the next.' Elders embrace, young people shoot video on cellphones, the tree moving stately through pines as flashlights lance through the galleries of boughs, the lights of the trucks closing in, filling the frame, branches of roadside trees snapping as the tulip shoulders through. Jashi stays with these shots a long time, lingering in the strangeness of a tree swaying in the still of night.\nWhat are we to make of Ivanishvili's uprootings? How do we weigh the ecological and social costs; how does his project compare to the collecting practices of public gardens and arboreta? Jashi eschews such ready questions and contrasts, preferring to dwell patiently in the confusion of the more-than-human encounter. Resisting easy critique, her eye is anthropological, tracing the exertions of people and trees with equanimity and affection. Along with townspeople and workers, we're invited to boggle, mourn, and wonder. And the trees in the end are beautiful, settled in their new home amid sprinklers and curving paths.\nIn his lavish account of Kublai Khan's pleasure palace, Marco Polo describes a hill planted with mature evergreens collected throughout the empire and carried to the capital by elephants. Historically, Marco Polo arrives on the eve of modernity and the coming Anthropocene before the forests of North America travelled upright over the seas in the form of ships' masts; before the forests of Asia and South America were felled for tea and palm and rapeseed. The ecological impact of Ivanishvili's Dendrological Park pales by comparison to such depredations. It's even beautiful in its way. Like the green hill of the Khan, the oligarch's park is lush, verdant, well tended. The birdsong there is fluting and evocative. And yet the trees are still rigged with the cables, bound fast like wild beasts. The oligarch wants his country to behave like a well-loved garden. And yet, as Salom\u017d Jashi reminds us, the memory of living soil persists amid the roots."},{"has_event_date":0,"type":"arnoldia","title":"Of Trees and the City","article_sequence":13,"start_page":60,"end_page":62,"url":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/\/action\/directLinkImage?assetId=25780","featured_photo":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/servlet\/display?file=b34509f9d4e0d14e856f.jpg","volume":79,"issue_number":"2","year":2022,"series":null,"season":null,"authors":"Stephens, Matthew","article_content":"Anyone who has planted and cared for a new tree knows that few things in life are as rewarding as this simple act. Planting day is unquestionably a stand back and be proud moment, but those of you who have planted one tree, or many, know that the real work (and appreciation) is just beginning. The watering, weeding, pruning, and care that is needed is an investment that will pay back dividends in seeing a tree grow bigger and bigger with each passing season.\nI happen to fall into a special category of tree planters: someone who can take credit for having played a significant role in planting over one million trees. This is becoming less of an incredible accomplishment given many places are now planting millions or billions of trees to combat climate change. However, there are few who can claim such a large bounty in an urban area, and specifically New York City. Prior to becoming the current President & CEO at Mount Auburn Cemetery, I helped to lead MillionTreesNYC, an effort to plant one million trees throughout all of New York City between 2007 and 2015. We planted trees along streets, in parks, and in cemeteries and botanical gardens work that will continue indefinitely, just as occurs in nature.\nOne question I have been asked about my work is, 'how do you plant a million trees in New York City?' The answer can be reduced to a simple instruction: one tree at a time! Further, New York City should be applauded for its efforts to use MillionTreesNYC as a springboard to further investment in pruning, permitting enforcement, and staffing tied to managing the urban forest.\nHaving landed at Mount Auburn in September 2021 as its new President & CEO, I was immediately entranced by the awe-inspiring collection of oaks and beeches. Without question, Mount Auburn has one of the best collections of mature trees anywhere in the United States, with nearly 4,700 trees of varying ages and over 650 taxa on its 175 acres. During a ten-minute walk on the grounds, you are sure to see specimens of multiple species of trees that will be some of the best you'll ever see! Our trees, some over 200 years old, have seen the world reinvent itself many times over, yet continue to reach for the skies with each passing year. For nearly 200 years our trees have received remarkable care in the form of watering, pruning, and other conscientious landscape maintenance techniques which have allowed them to thrive. Further, trees at Mount Auburn don't have the same competition as most urban trees.\nWhile tree planting traditionally gets the most fanfare and showy pictures, the years of effort and care leading up to a canopy-covered street tend to be overlooked. A few steps beyond our gates I am reminded of how tough it is to be an urban tree, especially a street tree. Between traffic, dogs, developers, climate change, and countless other variables, these trees face many stresses which shorten their lifespans. Struggling to keep up with necessary tree maintenance, cities worldwide have backed away from tree planting goals while also minting goals for canopy coverage. Ultimately, it is every urban forester's hope to invest resources, create policies, and develop stewardship to increase the canopy percentage over time.\nTrees happen to be quiet constituents. Rarely will an email, phone call, or press conference intervene when a community tree is suffering, unless an urban Lorax intervenes. Trees take time to grow; a future canopy doesn't develop on the schedule of politics and budget cycles. A tree planted today will take decades to equal the annual ecosystem services generated by the biggest and most beloved trees. This is a tough reality for trees in all our communities. However, the data that have been collected over the last three decades enunciate with extreme clarity: mature trees, and especially large shade trees, are exponentially much more significant providers of the ecosystem services. The math is simple: the larger the tree and more leaf surface area, the larger the benefits. For example, a newly planted tree, just a few inches in diameter, may sequester six pounds of carbon, or currently valued at about thirty cents; a mature tree greater than thirty inches in diameter, by contrast, will sequester over 6,000 pounds of carbon, worth some four hundred dollars. A thousand-fold increase! With that, how can trees continue to be overlooked?\nBeyond their value as carbon store, trees provide real and tangible benefits in the form of cleaner air, shade for buildings, or stormwater capture among many, many others. Many years ago I remember talking to Dr. David Novak with the US Forest Service who has dedicated his career to studying urban forests. Comparing the urban forest to other forms of infrastructure, he mentioned that we are just starting to fully realize the benefits of trees. Walk down the street where you live, and you will see some permutation of city infrastructure: fire hydrants to ensure buildings don't burn down, light poles to provide safety, or stop lights to allow traffic to be regulated, among others. Funded through local, state, or federal dollars, these investments improve the quality of life or safety of a given neighborhood. Compared to trees, however, light poles have lower dollar value in benefits and unlike trees, they decrease in value over time.\nWhy, then, have trees gone so overlooked as critical parts of urban infrastructure? Simple: trees are rarely considered a capital investment. But, if they were, it would provide urban foresters access to new and necessary sources of funding. Additional funding and pragmatic, focused local tree preservation legislation are long overdue. Trees should be funded, along with highly competent urban forestry managers to manage the urban forest which, like all critical urban infrastructure, is key to the safety and well-being of residents. In addition, many cities have a mechanism in place to raise capital monies through the selling of municipal bonds why couldn't trees be included along with other key infrastructure that elevates the quality of life of a locality?\nMany cities are making great strides, but there is still much work to be done. During my time in New York City, I would travel the country helping other cities figure out how to attract more funding for trees. Some cities were incredibly creative, but a clear thread emerged: urban forestry managers must scratch and claw for every dollar they get. And trees get pennies on the dollar compared to other urban infrastructure. In many cities, public\/private partnerships are aiming to fill the gaps. From Washington, DC, to San Francisco, to Portland, robust and sophisticated urban forestry nonprofits are filling the gaps left by public funding.\nOne irony of this struggle is that many cities or towns have left tree management\/urban forestry to a roads and sidewalks or public works department the areas of government that typically manage infrastructure. As a result, urban forestry programs have modest resources and\/or no meaningful political support given they are buried in large public works departments, and must compete against potholes or sidewalks for attention and funding. The reality, however, is that a well-sited tree likely will outlive all its infrastructure counterparts, outlasting sidewalks, stoplights, and even many buildings.\nFurther, local tree legislation that protects trees on public and private property is also lagging. Every city desires some level of development; however, it has also been the experience of many urban foresters that the impacts trees encounter from new construction, sidewalk\/driveway work, or other infrastructure projects lead to a significant number of removals or tree mortality after construction is completed. While a tree may not die immediately from construction impacts, my time working in New York suggests trees must be monitored for several years post construction to fully assess development impacts. When I met with developers in New York, they were quick to point out that they will likely spend more on doorknobs or cabinet handles than they will on trees even though the trees become part of infrastructure, and a community asset. When replacement is mandated by local legislation, it often merely requires a 1:1 planting ratio such that an old mature oak tree in its prime, for example, might be replaced with a newly planted red maple. We know from the data, however, that a newly planted tree can't replace a fully-grown tree in the urban infrastructure. There are few cities like New York City who are using a basal-area replacement methodology, which is a more appropriate way of calculating the true cost of removing healthy trees. That calculation not only more adequately accounts for loss, but protects trees by ensuring that any developer thinks twice before removing a tree.\nThe time for policy change is now. We need those who will speak for the trees, knowing they are a critical part of the urban infrastructure. Find fellow Loraxes, and organize. Approach your local elected officials and let them know how important the trees are to you and your community. Work with them to move forward thoughtful and pragmatic legislation. It will take time, steadfastness, and collective action by like-minded citizens who can speak and act civilly and passionately to make change change that will, that must, happen one tree at a time.\nIf you are in the Boston area, I encourage you to stop by Mount Auburn to check out our incredible canopy in a thriving metropolis. I guarantee you will leave feeling inspired by our one-of-a-kind landscape. Then, find a tree in your own neighborhood and start giving it some care. I am certain the time and energy you invest will be repaid in dividends. Enjoy your trees! "},{"has_event_date":0,"type":"arnoldia","title":"Deadheading Lilacs","article_sequence":14,"start_page":64,"end_page":64,"url":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/\/action\/directLinkImage?assetId=25779","featured_photo":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/servlet\/display?file=b34509f9d4e0d14e816c.jpg","volume":79,"issue_number":"2","year":2022,"series":null,"season":null,"authors":"Guidarelli, Connor","article_content":"The Lilac Collection has been getting its very own special day of celebration, Lilac Sunday, every Mother's Day for the past 112 years. Flowering extends beyond this day, of course, running from the end of April to the beginning of June. Within 2 weeks of flower wilt, we begin preparation for next year's spectacle by deadheading the lilacs. This practice helps to ensure that the shrubs do not expend more energy in seed production, but rather use it to produce flower buds more prolifically.\nMany hands make quick work of this time-sensitive task, as interns, seasonal gardeners, and horticulturists make their way through over one hundred plants. Some shrubs are so large that we need our six-foot extendable pruners to reach many of the spent flowers. Orchard ladders extend our reach even further, making it easy to maneuver in and around a shrub. Between plants, we spray sterilizing solution on our snips to prevent the spread of pathogens like phytoplasmas, often called Lilac Yellows. All the cuttings are collected and composted, to return to the collection as a soil amendment come the fall."},{"arnoldia_cover":true,"has_event_date":0,"type":"arnoldia","url":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/\/action\/directLinkImage?assetId=25778","featured_photo":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/servlet\/display?file=b34509f9d4e0d14e8128.jpg","title":"2022-79-2","volume":79,"issue_number":"2","year":2022,"series":null,"season":null},{"has_event_date":0,"type":"arnoldia","title":"The Arnold at 150","article_sequence":1,"start_page":1,"end_page":4,"url":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/\/action\/directLinkImage?assetId=25755","featured_photo":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/servlet\/display?file=b34509f9d4e0d170ab6e.jpg","volume":79,"issue_number":"1","year":2022,"series":null,"season":null,"authors":"Friedman, Ned","article_content":"What is the Arnold Arboretum? This question has been at the center of my thinking for over a decade, especially now, as I enter the twelfth year of my directorship and the Arnold enters its 150th year. Of course, nothing should ever be static when it comes to the life of an institution. Founding nineteenth-century ideals need updating in the twenty-first century. Still, for all that has changed over the last century and a half, the core values of the Arnold Arboretum strike me as eternal.\nThe Arnold Arboretum has and will always serve as a crossroads for biodiversity and human diversity. Its founding was a testament to the enduring values of democratic spaces (free and open to all) and the belief that such places should uplift all who enter. The Arnold is also, from the outset, an institution defined by its association with Harvard University. Scholarship, born of a love of biodiversity and a desire to unlock its secrets, is central. An ethos of conservation and respect for the environment goes back to the founders and early leaders. The meanings of such an intermingling of sentient and nonsentient organisms (respectively, people and trees) can never be fully unpacked, even in a lifetime of pondering. Yet I will briefly reflect on my thinking.\nLet's begin with my definition of an arboretum: a collection of woody plants with provenance in a designed landscape. Here, provenance and designed landscape are essential characteristics that help us appreciate the varied and dynamic relationships that occur between people, uniquely identified botanical organisms, and arboretum landscapes. The concept of provenance is typically associated with museum objects (think artworks), and at the Arnold Arboretum, every organism has a documented and acknowledged history. Take, for example, a single specimen of the sand pear (Pyrus pyrifolia, accession 7272*C) that has grown on the top of Bussey Hill for over a century.\nWe know that Ernest Henry Wilson and his collecting team encountered the parent of this sand pear growing west of Yichang, China, in the late summer of 1907. They collected fruit, removed its pulp (perhaps by eating it?), and separated, dried, and packed the seeds. The packet then passed as cargo down the Yangtze River to Shanghai, made its way by steamer to the west coast of North America, and took the transcontinental trains to Boston. On April 15, 1908, an Arboretum propagator formally accessioned the seeds. A few years later, a spot for a young sapling was chosen, and a hole was dug. This wonderful organism has lived in this location ever since, battling plant diseases and delighting visitors with its extraordinary clouds of white flowers every spring. This specimen is not any sand pear. It is an individual with its own life history and standing, not interchangeable with any other sand pear on Earth, just as no two human beings are interchangeable. Such provenance granular and unique distinguishes almost all the Arboretum's roughly sixteen thousand accessioned woody plants.\nA designed landscape is also central to my definition of an arboretum, and the Arnold Arboretum is fortunate to have been designed by a visionary Frederick Law Olmsted. His intentional design is reflected in every inch of the grounds, like the majestic reveal as you round the bend on Hemlock Hill Road and unexpectedly view the dramatic mixture of spruces and firs, with their blues and seemingly endless hues of green. The intentionality can be felt as you stand under the cathedral-like oak collection or take in a seemingly endless run of mountain laurels in flower in the spring. This landscape was designed to affect us and, indeed, to lift our spirits every day.\nThe impact of these experiences is profound. Olmsted spoke of the power of institutions like the Arnold Arboretum 'to make life in the city healthier and happier. But, surely Olmsted, despite his public health credentials (as general secretary of the US Sanitary Commission during the Civil War), would never have dreamed of the slew of well-documented health benefits of beautiful urban green spaces such as the Arnold Arboretum. Those who regularly walk these grounds may experience (on average) lower blood pressure, improved postoperative recovery, improved birth outcomes, improved outcomes associated with congestive heart failure, improved child development, reduced mortality, reduced stress, reduced symptoms of attention deficit hyperactivity disorder, reduced depression, and greater life satisfaction the list goes on. The Arnold Arboretum is literally interwoven into the healthcare system of Boston.\nOn a global scale, the research and conservation functions of the Arnold Arboretum have never been more critical. Fully three-quarters of the research now being conducted in the living collections is centered on understanding and combating human-induced global change, including climate change. How will trees and forested ecosystems function going forward, as climactic extremes mount by the year and invasive pests and pathogens circle the globe? The Arnold's working collection of woody plants is on the job providing essential insights into the coming biological Armageddon. Our plant expeditions throughout the temperate regions of the Northern Hemisphere emphasize the collection of germplasm from species and populations that are threatened with extinction. Ex situ conservation, the maintenance of living collections of endangered plants in botanical gardens and arboreta, has never been more critical to the Arnold's mission and to Earth's botanical biodiversity.\nI could go on but will finish by reflecting on the last two years of the Arnold Arboretum's existence. Through a raging and lethal pandemic, a reckoning over systemic racial injustice, an insurrection and serious challenge to American democracy, and the ever-more obvious extreme fires, floods, droughts, heat waves, and other threats to the world's four-billion-year evolution, the Arnold Arboretum did not close for a minute.\nThe Arnold Arboretum is not a mere amenity or simply a pleasure ground. It is an essential part of the public healthcare system, a place where the diverse population of Boston mixes, a bulwark for democracy, a leader in fighting global change and extinction, and a place where the next generation of ecologists, evolutionary biologists, and conservationists will launch their careers. And standing behind all of this are the magnificent plants with provenance in an Olmsted-designed landscape. What could possibly be more beautiful and meaningful as the Arnold Arboretum launches into its next century and a half?"},{"has_event_date":0,"type":"arnoldia","title":"Planting the New Lions of Kew","article_sequence":2,"start_page":8,"end_page":8,"url":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/\/action\/directLinkImage?assetId=25760","featured_photo":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/servlet\/display?file=b34509f9d4e0d170b76a.jpg","volume":79,"issue_number":"1","year":2022,"series":null,"season":null,"authors":"Kirkham, Tony","article_content":"As head of the arboretum at the Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew, I would walk the collection each day, choosing a different route and corner of the three-hundred-acre landscape. On the walks, I observed the growth of newly planted trees and built up a knowledge of the collection. I wanted to understand where gaps occurred and what we should plant to improve the wealth and diversity of the woody collections. I kept an eye out for important but ailing plants that should be repropagated. This daily practice remained valuable no matter how long I worked at Kew a tenure that spanned forty-three years in various roles.\nI describe the arboretum at Kew as a living reference library of woody plants from every corner of the temperate world that will grow outdoors (near London) without any form of protection during the winter. However, overseeing a collection like this isn't just about planting trees as they become available and looking after them. The collection is visited by two million people per year. It must meet the demands of a school educational program and remain one of the most diverse and authentic scientific collections of temperate trees in the world.\nThe age of Kew only adds to the challenge: how does a curator not only maintain but hopefully improve upon a tree collection that has been tended for more than 250 years? The gardens at Kew date to 1731, when King George II's son, Frederick Prince of Wales, leased the estate and began to develop the grounds. After his death, his wife, Princess Augusta, continued his work, and in 1759, on the advice of Lord Bute, her horticultural advisor, she created a nine-acre botanic garden with the planting of several newly introduced trees that we now know as the 'Old Lions.' Some of these are still growing today, including a maidenhair tree (Ginkgo biloba) and a black locust (Robinia pseudoacacia). By 1768, the collection included almost five hundred hardy trees and shrubs, but it wasn't until 1840 that Kew Gardens was placed under direct government control and the first director, William Hooker, was appointed to restore and expand the arboretum.\nIt has been an amazing privilege to oversee such a collection, following in the footsteps of remarkable people like William Jackson Bean, the assistant curator of the arboretum between 1900 and 1922. He authored the monumental reference work Trees and Shrubs Hardy in the British Isles, which is now online (with regular revisions) as Trees and Shrubs Online, courtesy of the International Dendrology Society. Even within such a storied landscape, the collections are ever-changing. Managing those changes is the essential work of a curator.\nA landmark turning point for the arboretum occurred on the night of October 16, 1987, when a hurricane struck the southeast of England, wreaking havoc to trees and woodlands, felling over fifteen million trees in its wake. At Kew, over seven hundred mature trees were lost that night. I remember waking up to loud bangs and crashes and my steel dustbin rolling down the road. I got up to retrieve it and was concerned by the strength of the winds. The following morning, all came to light with the news showing images and footage of devastation across the south of England. \nI was a young supervisor in the arboretum at the time, and when I finally made the journey into work, I immediately went out into the landscape to see how all my arboreal friends had fared through the night. As I picked my way through the limbs and uprooted trees, all I could think was 'doom and gloom.' It took us over three years to finally clear away the fallen, damaged trees. As I look back now, I consider this hurricane to be one of the best things that happened in the twentieth century for trees in the United Kingdom. It raised public awareness of the importance of trees nationally. At Kew, a new plant exploration program was started to replenish the gaps in the collections created by the storm, and new arboricultural practices were developed to improve the health of the remaining trees.\nI was fortunate to be a part of the team sent to collect new documented seed material to rebuild the tree collections. The species on the target lists and the parts of the world that would be visited were determined by an audit of what was still represented in the collections after the storm, looking at the taxonomic and geographic weaknesses. The first expeditions were to western China, South Korea, Taiwan, the Russian Far East, and Japan, and the material brought back over the past thirty-four years has greatly enriched the diversity and provenance of the tree collections. Much of this has not been done alone. Working with colleagues at other arboreta around the world has been important for sharing ideas, collections, and stories.\nI have never been one for pushing the boundaries of hardiness, especially as we increasingly experience unpredicted weather patterns. Still, I have been able to plant and establish species that we could not have grown outdoors forty years ago: for instance, the Taiwan coffin tree (Taiwania cryptomerioides), Kashmir cypress (Cupressus cashmeriana), and the paran\u2021 and bunya pines (Araucaria angustifolia and A. bidwillii), both from the Southern Hemisphere. On my daily walks through the arboretum, I would look for locations to position these and others. As curators, we all have our favorite areas and genera of trees, but we must ensure that other parts of the collection aren't neglected. I found that the wire cages used to protect our young trees provided a helpful visual cue. The cages are retained for five years, so I would stand in the arboretum and turn 360 degrees. If I failed to see one of the cages, this would signal to me a target area for succession planting.\nSeveral new introductions into the arboretum come to mind as highlights. In the autumn of 1996, on a collecting trip to China, I was fortunate to be granted permission to visit Jinfushan, a mountainous preserve in the upper reaches of the Yangtze River, to see the Chinese silver fir (Cathaya argyrophylla). This species, discovered in 1955 by Chinese scientists, was something we had only heard about but never seen. We found it growing on the limestone bluff but could not collect seed, owing to a national embargo. Two years later, the embargo was lifted, and seed was distributed to forestry institutes and botanic gardens. The Forestry Commission's Bedgebury Pinetum was the first to grow this tree in the United Kingdom, and its curator gave me a two-year-old plant for our collection. This can be a miffy species and finding the best planting position can be difficult. More by luck than judgement, I got it right. The plant at Kew is now a beautiful specimen about twenty feet high. It has produced viable seeds, and the first generation of ex situ propagated seedlings has now been planted out in the arboretum, helping conserve this rare tree.\nAnother successful introduction is the Chinese hickory (Carya cathayensis). In 2008, on a trip to China to follow in the footsteps of Ernest Henry Wilson, I visited a market in Shanghai and saw nuts of the rare species being cooked and sold as candied pecans. We bought a kilo of uncooked seeds, and the propagator in Kew's nursery, after much experimental work, successfully germinated the seed and grew over twenty plants that are now sited in various locations across the arboretum. These are now gorgeous trees. They are very well-behaved, needing little if any formative training and producing a straight tapered trunk with an even distribution of lateral branches. The species is perfectly hardy in the United Kingdom.\nFor me, one of the main criteria for a successful and healthy treescape and collection is continual succession planting, maintaining a healthy population with generations of individual species, like a family, ranging from the great grandparents (the Old Lions) to the great-grandchildren (the newly planted trees this year). It was so rewarding to walk the collections seeing new introductions like the delicate Taiwan beech (Fagus hayatae), which we introduced as seed to the West in 1992, growing into strong, attractive specimens and enhancing the conservation value of the arboretum. Some of these, we hope, will be the Old Lions of tomorrow."},{"has_event_date":0,"type":"arnoldia","title":"Plant Rescue on the Cliffs of O'ahu","article_sequence":3,"start_page":11,"end_page":12,"url":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/\/action\/directLinkImage?assetId=25761","featured_photo":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/servlet\/display?file=b34509f9d4e0d170bb6d.jpg","volume":79,"issue_number":"1","year":2022,"series":null,"season":null,"authors":"Sugii, Nellie","article_content":"In 2004, the last remnants of an exceedingly rare Hawaiian species, Cyanea grimesiana ssp. grimesiana, bloomed and set fruit in the wild. Known only from the leeward slopes of the southern Ko'olau Mountains on the island of O'ahu, this shrub is one of seventy-eight species within an endemic Hawaiian genus commonly known as hh. The species could be found surrounded by koa (Acacia koa) and other common forest trees, and it has been rare since it was first documented in the wild in 1819. Significant surveys occurred in the 1990s, and by 2004, only two mature wild plants remained, with no evidence of recruitment or any significant ex situ collections. The situation became dire.\nAt the time, I was several years into my career as a researcher for the Lyon Arboretum's Hawaiian Rare Plant Program, where I'm now the program manager. Our work focuses on rescuing and recovering Hawai'i's most critically endangered plants, storing germplasm for ex situ conservation, and providing plants for in situ restoration. Our micropropagation laboratory is central to this effort a surreal indoor space where more than 170 of Hawai'i's rarest and endangered plant species are grown collectively in tens of thousands of test tubes. I often describe it as 'plant conservation through the looking glass.'\nWhen the hh remnants flowered, our team worked with collaborators, including the Plant Extinction Prevention Program, the US Fish and Wildlife Service, and the US Army's Natural Resource Program, to plan for protecting the species in the micropropagation facility. Field biologists monitored the two plants. The flowers emerged as white, arching tubes, streaked with vibrant purple. The fruits then ripened into orange, fleshy capsules. The biologists carefully collected the fruit and brought it to the micropropagation lab for germination. We knew it was a heavy responsibility when the precious seeds arrived, but excitement ran through the lab as we sorted, cleaned, and prepped the seeds for in vitro seed sowing.\nMicropropagation gained recognition as a viable propagation method for commercial applications in the 1960s, but the technique was initially viewed suspiciously due to associated terms and applied technologies such as cloning, anexic seed sowing, ovulo culture, and organogenesis. To some, even at the Lyon Arboretum, these technologies seemed contrary to conservation theologies of preservation and genetic integrity. Yet micropropagation has gradually proven itself as a useful rescue and recovery tool. It can be used to germinate immature seeds and rescue embryos from aborted fruit. It's also used for cloning wild plants at risk of extirpation in order to preserve genetic representation and establish clonal lines of its seedling progeny for restoration.\nAfter the hh germinated in our lab, we learned that the final wild remnants had altogether succumbed the species no longer existed in the wild. This knowledge brought bittersweet feelings as we watched the seeds germinate in the petri dishes and eventually grow into seedlings that we placed into individual test tubes. We knew that it was now our responsibility to establish perpetuity for this species by establishing clonal lines of the seedlings through microcuttings and maintaining the in vitro germplasm collection until a safe and secure restoration site free of threats became available.\nApproximately 88 percent of the native plants on the Hawaiian Archipelago naturally occur nowhere else in the world. This rich biodiversity serves as a unique example of insular evolution, but its fragility is evident by the scale of species on the brink of extinction. According to listings by the US Fish and Wildlife, about one-half of the nation's threatened and endangered plant taxa are from Hawai'i. Of the five hundred Hawaiian species assessed for the International Union for Conservation of Nature's Red List, about 87 percent are classified as endangered or threatened. Let us not mention the hundreds of rapidly declining species that are missing from either list but are at risk of extinction.\nOn August 23, 2013, over nine years after the eventful collection date, I gathered at a site in the Ko'olau Mountains with a group of individuals involved in the conservation of Cyanea grimesiana ssp. grimesiana. A festive mood spread among us. We had long awaited the moment when we would bring this species and a few associated plants back to its native habitat, within the Mnoa Cliff Forest Restoration site. Our small group of friends and family even a few children made our way through a forest of an invasive bamboo that had taken hold in the area. A few of our team wore backpacks containing plants, and most everyone else carried trays of plants or tools in our hands. A space opened in the bamboo, and a pocket (or kipuka) of near-intact native forest appeared before us. For those seeing it for the first time, the beauty of the area took our breath away. We all acknowledged that the enclosure represented a new beginning for this hh.\nBy 2021, the original Mnoa Cliff plantings had matured. The hh plants flower and produce fruit, and the seeds are collected and sowed for restoration purposes or stored in our program's seed conservation laboratory. We have now stored thousands of seeds from the different plants, and we continue to maintain the original clonal lines in the micropropagation lab, with long-term cryopreservation being our future and final ex situ storage goal. With many hands and great effort, we have brought Cyanea grimesiana ssp. grimesiana back home."},{"has_event_date":0,"type":"arnoldia","title":"Thinking Outside the Quad","article_sequence":4,"start_page":13,"end_page":14,"url":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/\/action\/directLinkImage?assetId=25758","featured_photo":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/servlet\/display?file=b34509f9d4e0d170b36d.jpg","volume":79,"issue_number":"1","year":2022,"series":null,"season":null,"authors":"Feldman, Carmia","article_content":"When Karyn Utsumi entered the University of California, Davis, majoring in environmental science and management in 2017, she didn't anticipate that she would eventually spend countless hours wearing waders and working with other students to restore a prominent water body on campus. Yet she knew that she wanted to turn her deep care for the environment into something that made a difference in her community. During her freshman year, she saw an announcement about the Waterway Stewardship internship with the UC Davis Arboretum and Public Garden. She applied and was thrilled to be selected.\nThe UC Davis Arboretum and Public Garden spans the entire 5,300-acre university campus, with a historic arboretum, founded in 1936, at the center. By applying the management and engagement principles of a public garden to the campus at large, the university aims to enhance how the entire Davis community views and interacts with its environment. Our student internship program, which Karyn joined, is our top initiative to do just that by developing the next generation of environmental leaders. The program is called Learning by Leading\u00aa. Students gain leadership and technical skills as they tackle critical environmental issues with real-world, hands-on projects. As students progress through the program, they take on more responsibility through our mentor-supported 'leadership ladder.' Students start as learners and then can work through a succession of leadership positions, including project leader, team leader, and apprentice.\nFor students in the Waterway Stewardship internship, their living laboratory is the Arboretum Waterway, a creek-like body of water that runs through the historic section of the arboretum. The waterway is part of the campus stormwater drainage system and is dammed at both ends. While it resembles a creek, the Arboretum Waterway is effectively a pond, which means that it comes with common pond issues: nutrient-rich water and unsightly algae formation. After Karyn was hired as her team's coleader during her junior year, she led her interns in developing a floating wetland with sedges and other native plants that take up nutrients from the water as they grow. From afar, the planting resembles a green island. She worked hard to create consequential experiences for her team, learning to see and celebrate each member's unique skills.\nOver seven hundred students have now gone through the Learning by Leading program since it began in 2008. Another student, Ricardo Black, transferred to Davis from Los Medanos College, a community college in Pittsburg, California, for his junior year in the fall of 2019. He became a student leader for our Habitat Horticulture team, which enhances the suitability of campus gardens for native pollinators and other wildlife. Ricardo and his team worked in the Pollinator GATEway Gardens in the arboretum proper. A series of GATEway Gardens have been designed collaboratively with academic departments to showcase their research and teaching to visitors. The Pollinator GATEway Gardens, highlighting plants important for native bees, butterflies, hummingbirds, and other pollinators, were created with the nearby School of Veterinary Medicine. The project aligns with the school's research on the interconnections between the health of people, animals (both domestic and wild), and their environment.\nRicardo's leadership skills were tested when the pandemic forced our normally hands-on, outdoor internships into a virtual format. He demonstrated fast, adaptive leadership as he navigated his team through the initial unpredictable months of the pandemic. He found that it became even more essential to develop peer-mentor relationships, which encouraged his growth as a communicator. Ricardo says, 'During the program, I was put in a position where leadership and innovation skills were needed to make things work in an environment that was unpredictable and always changing due to the pandemic.' Similarly, Karyn credits the Learning by Leading program for shaping her into the collaborative leader she is today. When she started the internship, she told herself, 'I need to work hard and figure everything out by myself.' Then, as she progressed through the program and gained leadership experience, she realized that strength comes through working together.\nKaryn also says that Learning by Leading helped her discover her twin passions for restoration and environmental education. She graduated in the spring of 2021 and immediately was hired by two local environmental organizations: the Putah Creek Council, where she organizes community volunteers to do creek restoration work, and the Solano Resource Conversation District, where she serves as an environmental educator. Karyn's growth as a leader and her impactful postgraduate jobs exemplify the power of reimagining the traditional university campus. All university campuses are more than lawns, sidewalks, and buildings they can be spaces where tomorrow's environmental change-makers learn to lead."},{"has_event_date":0,"type":"arnoldia","title":"Water Comes First","article_sequence":5,"start_page":15,"end_page":17,"url":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/\/action\/directLinkImage?assetId=25757","featured_photo":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/servlet\/display?file=b34509f9d4e0d170af6a.jpg","volume":79,"issue_number":"1","year":2022,"series":null,"season":null,"authors":"Bartlett Jr., Robert A.","article_content":"My decision to transform the R.A. Bartlett Research Laboratories and Arboretum into the living museum that exists today was centered on the need for water. My father, Robert Bartlett Sr., purchased the property in 1965, a few years after he became president of the family business, Bartlett Tree Experts. He intended for the 350-acre property, nestled in the rolling hills outside of Charlotte, North Carolina, to serve as a research laboratory and training center for the growing company.\nTo that end, the company established facilities and plots where staff scientists conducted experiments on plant care and pathology. Previously, this work had been performed in Stamford, Connecticut, where my grandfather had set up our first tree research laboratory and training facility in 1913. A portion of the original site still exists today as the Bartlett Arboretum and Gardens, although it has no affiliation with the company.\nPreviously, the Charlotte property had been a working horse farm with large fields and pastureland. When my father acquired the land, he planted azaleas (Rhododendron) and hollies (Ilex), along with other plants that form the basis of the collections we have today. In those early years, I remember seeing young trees begin to establish themselves and rise above the forage grasses.\nThe climate near Charlotte allowed the cultivation of species common in both northern and southern gardens, which was important since we had field offices throughout the United States (and now Canada, the United Kingdom, and Ireland). Still, the summers in Charlotte are hot and humid. To maintain the collections, we pumped water from one of three existing ponds to provide irrigation, but at first, the capabilities were technologically limited. The earliest systems consisted of gasoline-powered pumps sitting on the shore of the ponds and serving manually operated spigots. Remnants of those systems can still be found on the property, and portions of their piping are still in use today.\nDuring the first thirty years in our Charlotte location, it was apparent that some of the plants were beginning to suffer from our limited irrigation capabilities. In particular, the collection of azaleas that my father had started planting on an eighty-foot hill, now affectionately called Rhodie Hill, required extensive watering. In midsummer, it was challenging to stay ahead of the heat, especially because the water had to be manually hauled up the paths that wind around the hill.\nThe impact of a changing climate also became more apparent at this time. When my father bought the land, the property was categorized by the US Department of Agriculture as being in plant hardiness zone 7 (meaning the average minimum temperatures fell between 0 and 10\u00a1F); however, it is now considered zone 8 (averaging between 10 and 20\u00a1F). Due to changes in the weather patterns, longer dry periods developed, and more dramatic swings in rainfall became the new normal. It was clear that we could no longer sustain our collections without investing in a state-of-the-art irrigation system.\nAfter my father passed away in 1998, we began to make a significant investment to help maintain and develop the property. It would continue to serve as a research station and laboratory, complete with a training facility for clients and arborists and a diagnostic clinic where our researchers process thousands of plant and soil samples sent by our field offices. At the same time, we were determined to continue building the collections into a world-class arboretum. With this goal in mind, we decided to put in an irrigation system that could provide consistent water to the growing collections.\nWe installed a new distribution system to feed the early network of pipes and facilitate manual watering capability in adjoining areas. Most importantly, the system directed a large volume of water to one of our ponds. Now, with the ability to keep a single, large reservoir of water full at all times, the Research Lab and Arboretum was primed for much more extensive, and automated, irrigation operations. In 1999, we began installation of the first automated system. It allowed us to direct a precise amount of water overnight to specific areas on the property. The collections grew like never before. The system also made new locations available for dedicated research plots. Automatic irrigation was a game changer.\nAt that point, we began to strategically build our collections. We launched collaborations with other arboreta and research institutions across the globe and started adding to the diversity of our cultivated plants. Today, the collections are expansive, consisting of over twenty-six thousand accessioned plants in fourteen major groups. We have one of the largest collections of holly in the United States, along with extensive collections of elm (Ulmus), crape myrtle (Lagerstroemia), maple (Acer), witch-hazel (Hamamelis), linden (Tilia), and boxwood (Buxus). Seven collections are accredited through the Plant Collections Network, including the largest collection of Magnolia cultivars in the world. \nAmong the collections, those which were established early and added on to over the years continue to be among the most satisfying for me to watch through the year. Our main grouping of magnolias borders Youngblood Road, a two-lane highway that passes the arboretum. When you drive around the corner and see the magnolias in bloom, the sight of the different colors almost takes your breath away. There is just about every shade and hue of purple, pink, white, and yellow that you can imagine. Rhodie Hill is another favorite. The hill comes alive in a kaleidoscope of spring color, and with mature specimen trees overhead, the winding paths offer beautiful surprises around every corner.\nWe have now begun focusing on wild-collected plant material, especially prioritizing species of conservation concern. One of the plants that we are playing a role in conserving is a rare North American species known as the pyramid magnolia (Magnolia fraseri var. pyramidata). In an effort to understand the distribution of this species and increase documented holdings in cultivation, our arboretum has partnered with The Morton Arboretum, the University of Florida North Research and Education Center, the Chicago Botanic Garden, the Atlanta Botanical Garden, and the US National Arboretum to scout populations, assess their health, and collect seed (when present) for propagation and distribution. Through collaborative efforts like this, and with other strong networking partners such as the Arnold Arboretum, Longwood Gardens, and many others, we have made conservation of rare species a new part of our mission. \nLooking at all the natural beauty established here, visitors may find it easy to forget that this is a relatively young arboretum. We pride ourselves on the ability to adapt with the times and use our natural water resources to maintain the vitality and health of our collections. The key and catalyst to our success has been access to water and having the irrigation needed to help the plants thrive. Without it, we could not have created this botanical wonderland in such a short amount of time."},{"has_event_date":0,"type":"arnoldia","title":"Metasequoia glypotostroboides","article_sequence":6,"start_page":18,"end_page":19,"url":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/\/action\/directLinkImage?assetId=25762","featured_photo":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/servlet\/display?file=b34509f9d4e0d1708125.jpg","volume":79,"issue_number":"1","year":2022,"series":null,"season":null,"authors":"Jahren, Hope","article_content":"If you head north, far above the Arctic Circle, you will find yourself in a land of blue sky, white snow, and gray ice. There will be pockets, here and there a lonely island, a sloping valley that are dry, dusty, and desolate. Dig down, through a crust of lichens, take out the smooth stones underneath, and burrow into the shaley, ancient mud. When you get to layers no less than forty million years old, you will find conifer needles. Not only that, you will find twigs, branches, cones, and even whole trunks, dusted in ancient sap. I have seen this myself, during the odd, dream-like hours that are born of twenty-four-hour light.\nForty-five million years ago, at 79\u00a1 north latitude, an immense conifer forest stretched in every direction, across what is now Canada, Alaska, and Siberia, quite close to today's North Pole. The idea of a forest so far north is nothing short of fantastic: today, the tallest plant in the region is a pussy willow and a stunted specimen at that. The temperature and the rainfall above the Arctic Circle were certainly very different forty million years ago. Still, one thing has not changed: total light for three months, soon followed by three months of total darkness. No modern trees can tolerate these conditions, yet forests once thrived under this ridiculous annual regime. Foremost among the trees was Metasequoia. We recognize them from their needles fossilized but so loose that they fall through your fingers like confetti.\nUntil 1948, most scientists assumed that Metasequoia was extinct, based on fossils from lower latitudes. That was the year the Arnold Arboretum received a package from Hu Xiansu, who trained at the Arboretum and returned to China with his doctorate in 1925. Hu sent bushels of seeds and other botanical materials, and he documented that they had come from wait for it live Metasequoia glyptostroboides growing in central China! Some of these seeds became the full-grown, magnificent 'dawn redwoods' that now stand throughout the Arboretum (accessions 3-48 and 524-48).\nBecause of these seeds and the trees they became, I knew something about the fossils that we excavated in Canada that I would never have known otherwise: ancient Metasequoia trees were deciduous. Deciduousness is a special type of dormancy meant to decrease the stress of maintaining leaves through the winter. This trait, uncommon in conifers, would make all the difference as the trees prepared for the extended Arctic darkness."},{"has_event_date":0,"type":"arnoldia","title":"The Third Fifty Years of the Arnold Arboretum","article_sequence":7,"start_page":20,"end_page":33,"url":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/\/action\/directLinkImage?assetId=25756","featured_photo":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/servlet\/display?file=b34509f9d4e0d170af26.jpg","volume":79,"issue_number":"1","year":2022,"series":null,"season":null,"authors":"Dosmann, Michael S.","article_content":"Round the bend on Hemlock Hill Road and look across Bussey Brook and Kent Field to the north. Your eyes will skim a patchwork of conifer textures, colors, and forms. Among the trees is an upright individual with a rather abrupt taper at the top, the Arnold Arboretum's largest giant sequoia (Sequoiadendron giganteum, accession 1320-72*A), now standing eighty-three feet tall. After crossing the brook and walking up the slope, you'll see that the wide bole (almost five feet in diameter) begs to be hugged. Shift your gaze up along the orange bark to the sky, and you'll see the tree's candelabra-like branching pattern. Most of the branches seem normal, erupting out of the main stem at right angles,\nbut if you step back and keep your eye on the crown, you'll see an odd conglomeration where one branch over another attempted to bend skyward.\nBack in 1948 (the same year that Metasequoia glyptostroboides, the dawn redwood, arrived in North America), a supporter of the Arboretum, Chandler Hovey, collected giant sequoia seedlings from California and planted several near his home in Brookline, Massachusetts, a stone's throw from the Boston College campus. In 1972, in honor of the Arboretum's centennial, Boston College which had recently acquired the Hovey property donated the tree. That spring, a twenty-four-year-old, forty-two-foot-tall, pointy-topped tree was dug, transported, and transplanted in its current spot in the conifer collection. The magnificent specimen survived, but its central leader died due to transplant shock, leaving an oval-shaped form for decades. A new leader eventually took over: a dog-legged branch that formed fifty years ago from the initial crown's tip, some forty-three feet above the ground. I'm certain that the wooden rings within that branch would reveal not just what was going on with that single tree but the surrounding Arboretum landscape as well.\nThe First Fifty Years\nJust as the sequoia's history is written within its rings, branches, and form, the Arboretum's landscape and collections reflect a history rich in dramatic events and subtle ripples. Much has been written about them, and Charles Sprague Sargent's 'The First Fifty Years of the Arnold Arboretum' describes the first five decades with aplomb. At the time of Sargent's writing in 1922, Harvard's tree museum (founded in 1872) had expanded from 125 to 250 acres. Frederick Law Olmsted had reimagined Benjamin Bussey's farm with carriageways and pathways, collection areas and viewsheds. Sargent and his team transformed the landscape into a composite of taxonomic tree groups and research plantings, including an intensely cultivated shrub and vine collection, all nestled among a few natural and naturalized woodlands.\nBy 1922, botanical exploration particularly of East Asia and North America and horticultural exchange yielded a living collection of over five thousand taxa growing at the Arboretum. The institution was well on its way to meeting its initial charge (a nascent collections policy, if you will) to cultivate every tree, shrub, and vine hardy in Boston. While many of the plants were botanical taxa, including wild-origin species newly cultivated in North America, there was no shortage of infraspecific forms and varieties that we would now call cultivars. The herbarium of two hundred thousand sheets complemented a thirty-five-thousand-volume library and archival collection of nearly ten thousand photographs. With these integrated living, preserved, and archival collections, the Arnold Arboretum had become an international destination for scholars of woody plants.\nYet Harvard's tree museum was not just for the botanical connoisseur. This gem in Boston's Emerald Necklace of parks provided open space to an expanding and diversifying city. Because of the 1882 arrangement where ownership of the land shifted from Harvard to the City of Boston (who then leased the property back to the university for at least one thousand years), the space would be secured in perpetuity as both a scientific enterprise and public open space, free for all to enjoy. Without this arrangement some 140 years ago, I doubt if the Arnold Arboretum would exist today, or if it did, if we would recognize it in its current form. Had it remained a nonpublic, university-owned research station, I can imagine acres by the dozen being peeled away and sold with each-and-every economic crisis. If purely a municipal park, even if well maintained, it would not house one of Earth's most notable collections of woody plants. Luckily, these are just what-if scenarios.\nPerhaps knowing his grip upon the Arboretum's helm would not last much longer (though it did, for another four years), Sargent ended his half-century assessment with a few bold charges for his successors. Global environmental change was apparent to him, particularly the challenges to trees and forests worldwide. Thus, Sargent called for continued and ambitious documentation of forests in Asia and the tropics, as well as rigorous scholarship in forest pathology, entomology, and genetics. Within the Arboretum landscape, Sargent felt that a rose and a rock garden would be essential additions, no doubt to provide space for new collections development while simultaneously enhancing the horticultural display. Despite the growth of the initial Arboretum endowment from $103,847 to $808,175, Sargent knew that additional resources would be required not just for these new initiatives but to maintain current operations. Thus, he curtly ended his fifty-year report with one sentence: 'Only a larger endowment is needed to make possible these Arboretum activities and extensions.' Following his death in 1927, the Sargent Memorial Fund would raise over a million dollars.\nThe Second Fifty Years \nThe Arboretum's second half-century was dramatic and dynamic. The institution weathered a global economic depression, multiple leadership changes (one supervisor and three directors), the catastrophic hurricane of 1938, as well as another World War. There was also the Controversy (as it was referred to), which amalgamated the university's herbarium and botanical library collections (including most of the Arboretum's) under one roof in Cambridge. This coincided with the cessation of the Bussey Institution, which had opened as Harvard's center for horticultural and agricultural education in 1871, on property adjacent to the Arboretum. The institute grew into a center for genetic and cellular research. By the 1930s, most of the on-site scholarship in the Arboretum's living collections had waned. Likewise, the Arboretum's fieldwork in temperate areas, particularly to acquire germplasm to grow in the living collections, ceased almost entirely. However, botanical exchange of seeds persisted, with the 1948 acquisition of the Chinese dawn redwood, Metasequoia glyptostroboides, being one of the most celebrated feats even to this day.\nThe discipline of horticulture often considered the art and the science of growing plants matured in the mid-twentieth century. The genetic improvement of ornamentals hit a stride, as did advanced ways to propagate them clonally. As a result, cultivars (first given formal recognition in 1952) wantonly tumbled out of nursery catalogues and into gardens, parks, and other managed landscapes. The Arboretum's living collection was no exception.\nIn 1970, Donald Wyman, horticulturist in charge of the Arboretum from 1935 to 1970, wrote in these pages about the Arboretum's goal to improve the curation and care of the collections, and to use the collections as a living laboratory for horticultural introductions. Species plucked from the wilds in the Arboretum's first half-century would be assessed for their garden worthiness in the second. Novel hybrids, like crabapples (Malus) and forsythia (Forsythia) created by Karl Sax (a professor who then served as director from 1947 to 1954), were given growing space, with many introduced as cultivars after evaluation. Arboretum selections, and those from sister institutions and industry, were grown side-by-side, their performance recorded in Arnoldia and other publications.\nJust like there were changes to what the Arboretum grew in the collections and why, there were changes to where they were grown. The 1942 acquisition of the Case Estates in Weston, Massachusetts, provided a welcome relief valve for the space-cramped Boston collection. Shortly thereafter, several ornamental collections in Boston underwent redesigns: Landscape architect Beatrix Farrand's Azalea Border along Meadow Road added dramatic color and space for the deciduous Rhododendron that were performing poorly elsewhere. Crabapples, the dandy of mid- to late-twentieth-century landscapes, replaced most of the hawthorns (Crataegus) on Peters Hill during renovations from 1948 to 1952. The construction of the Dana Greenhouses in 1962 provided a sophisticated station where propagator Alfred Fordham could conduct his many experiments and publish them widely.\nCollections of the Third Fifty Years\nThe centennial in 1972 arrived with fanfare and excitement. Dick Howard, director since 1954, began his 1971 annual report to the Harvard University Provost by underscoring the Arnold Arboretum's essential service role to the City of Boston, particularly to local communities. Maintaining the Arboretum required considerable resources that were worth the expense and investment, and caring for the collections was his 'priority responsibility.' Thus, irrigation projects in both Boston and Weston would alleviate some of the growing and unmet demands for water. A bucket truck was added to the fleet, which made pruning or removing old, senescing 'stag-headed' trees easier. To replace some of the removals, horticulturists planted out nearly nine hundred specimens, completing a cycle of rejuvenation and renewal. Anticipating future databasing, Howard noted that the plant records office had wrapped up a major inventory campaign to assess and field-check every specimen in the collection.\nOver the Arboretum's third fifty years, the institution would be led by four directors: Richard Howard's tenure ended in 1978; Peter Ashton led from 1978 to 1987; Robert Cook from 1989 to 2009; and William (Ned) Friedman became director in 2011. During this time, the Arboretum experienced dramatic changes, as did the living collections. Staff actively contemplated what to cultivate, where to grow it, and how to do it better.\nMajor anniversaries like a centennial can elicit reflections and ambitions, so it is no surprise that shortly after Peter Ashton became the director in 1978, strategic planning was underway. One broad initiative, a restoration plan, included a substantial section for what should be in the collections. A formal living collections policy the first for this Arboretum and most botanic gardens was also published in 1979, remaining in force for almost thirty years. In this latter document, the Arboretum established and codified ambitious goals: to acquire all known woody species hardy in Boston (no different from the original charge of 1872); to have three individuals of each species; to prioritize wild-provenance plants above those of garden or nursery origin; and (assuming they met specific requirements) to continue to maintain taxa at infraspecific ranks (including cultivars, although these were considered lowest in any hierarchy).\nTo complete the collections, the 1979 restoration plan outlined the addition of over 2,900 taxa, spanning 90 families and 363 genera. These desiderata came almost exclusively from identifying which plants in the 1940 edition of Alfred Rehder's Manual of Cultivated Trees and Shrubs Hardy in North America were missing from the collection. To launch the initiative, staff set an ambitious goal of acquiring 1,500 taxa in the first five years.\nEven before strategic planning of what to add, the Arboretum reconsidered where new material would come from and how to acquire it: collectors would return to the field. In 1977, the Arboretum embarked on its first major collecting trip in some forty years, sending taxonomists Stephen Spongberg and Richard Weaver to South Korea and Japan for six weeks. In 1980, following the heels of the restoration plan, Weaver botanized in the Soviet Union, while Spongberg participated in the three-month-long Sino-American Botanical Expedition, which involved a team of thirteen Chinese and American collaborators. (China had not been visited by Western botanists since before the revolution in 1949.) The era of fieldwork had returned.\nThrough the 1980s and early 1990s, the infusion of wild-collected material from some seventeen expeditions occurred at a scale not seen in fifty years. In some years, the Arboretum sponsored multiple collecting trips. Destinations included those known to yield hardy material such as northwestern Hubei Province, China, and the Appalachian Mountains of the American Southeast, as well as fringe regions like North Africa, Mexico, and Taiwan. Coincident with fieldwork, the Arboretum also received new material from sister institutions, often selected from their annual seed lists (known as index semina).\nAlthough the restoration plan advised against 'returning to what must have been almost a jungle by the end of Sargent's tenure as Director,' there was no discussion as to where some five thousand new plants (an increase by approximately 30 percent) would be sited in the collections. Thus, limitations in capacity and resources facilities, staffing, and space hindered the restoration's full success. For one, the Arboretum lacked the facilities to propagate and produce the sheer magnitude of material arriving in such a short period. The plant records database is replete with notations from index cards of whole flats of accessions that perished due to the lack of production space (many were placed in the shade below the benches). Gary Koller, Wyman's successor as the lead horticulturist, has told me how, due to severe space constraints in the collection in the 1980s, sibling plants of the same accession were planted together in tight triads, about five feet apart. Only a few of the triads remain today, primarily sited along the roads and perimeter of Bussey Hill. Deaccessioning plants was taboo, so there were few other alternatives. The 1979 restoration document was successful as an acquisitions plan yet perhaps too ambitious given practical considerations.\nA decade later, following changes in Arboretum leadership (Robert Cook became director in 1989), a Living Collections Long-Range Planning Committee returned to the process of thinking about the collections. In 1991, the committee completed a planning document, edited by Stephen Spongberg, which acknowledged that the 1979 restoration may have been na\u2022ve. The committee noted the challenges in adopting a comprehensive collection (meaning one of every taxon) versus a synoptic or broadly representative collection. They observed that it would be difficult to preserve the integrity of the Arboretum's historic landscape in light of the aggressive drive to acquire new material. Nevertheless, the plan ended with a reaffirmation of the same ambitious collection policy goals articulated in 1979.\nTo accommodate this expansion while remaining sensitive to the Olmsted design (by not transforming the collections into a dense forestry plantation), the 1991 plan called for the prudent review and deaccessioning of low-value and out-of-sequence material. The authors proposed a long-term review process that would finally deal with many of the growing pains that had affected the Arboretum since (and perhaps prior to) the death of Sargent. Although there were no estimates of how many plants could be deaccessioned, the authors stated that such subtractions would be insufficient to accommodate the necessary expansion. The 1991 plan estimated that all Arboretum property must be designated for the purpose of housing an expanded collection, including the entirety of Peters Hill, Bussey Brook Meadow (formerly called the South Street Tract or Stony Brook Marsh), Weld Hill (formerly Weld-Walter Street Tract), and the Case Estates. Space was not the only resource required: the plan identified new staff positions necessary for curation, horticulture, and the greenhouse and nursery.\nShortly after the 1991 plan was completed, it was put on hold following a reorganization of the Arboretum's administrative structure in early 1992. A new Living Collections Department was created, with Peter Del Tredici leading. The ambitious goal of the 1979 and 1991 plans to form a comprehensive collection was admittedly unrealistic and abandoned. Instead, as Del Tredici outlined in 1994, collections development would take a more focused or prioritized approach. During the early 1990s through the mid-2000s, special recognition was reserved for conservation-status species (particularly those maintained in collaboration with the Center for Plant Conservation). As a theme, the floras of eastern Asia and eastern North America were given priority, particularly genera like Acer (maples) and Fagus (beeches), which became two of the initial five collections nationally accredited through the Plant Collections Network. (The Arboretum now has eight accredited collections.) The recently established North America China Plant Exploration Consortium (NACPEC) became a pipeline for novel germplasm from China. From 1991 to 2006, the Arboretum mounted six expeditions to China, two under the NACPEC flag, including the 1994 expedition to Hubei that infused the collections with new material like the paperbark maple (Acer griseum), which had most recently been collected by Ernest Henry Wilson in 1907.\nWithin a year of joining the staff in 2007, I organized a team to update collections goals and codify them in a new living collections policy. The scope of the collections would remain synoptic, with the highest priority assigned to core collections, such as the nationally accredited collections and conservation-status holdings. Historic lineages would be maintained through repropagation, while targeted acquisitions of cultivars would meet trialing, display, and research needs. The new policy (and its subtle revisions over the past fifteen years) prompted the review and subsequent deaccessioning of excessive or low-value accessions, as well as the repropagation of valuable lineages that had gone unnoticed.\nFieldwork continued, with another six expeditions occurring between 2007 and 2015, including a NACPEC expedition to the Qinling Mountains of China in 2010 and a more focused collecting of live oak (Quercus virginiana) from the northeastern edge of its range in Virginia in 2012. In 2015, the Arboretum launched the Campaign for the Living Collections, an initiative that followed several years of planning from the Living Collections Advisory Board. The campaign articulated a list of nearly four hundred target taxa, each linked to one or more priority themes found in the collections policy. Since the campaign launched, some twenty expeditions to destinations in the United States, China, Japan, and the country of Georgia have yielded over half of the desiderata. The COVID-19 pandemic paused expeditionary work for 2020 and 2021.\nWhile the Arboretum embarked on exactly fifty named expeditions over the past fifty years, plants of cultivated origin were added to the collections (or maintained) for their invaluable ornamental characteristics, stress tolerance, and other novel traits valued in managed landscapes. Cultivars of trees continued to grow alongside their wild-origin brethren particularly in the Rosaceous orchards of Peters Hill while new shrub cultivars appeared in the Bradley Rosaceous Collection (dedicated in 1985), the Leventritt Shrub and Vine Garden (dedicated in 2002), and other landscapes. In 1972, 14,058 plants grew in the Arboretum's collections in Boston, and only 14 percent were of wild origin. As of this writing, 44 percent of the 15,939 plants in the collections were derived from wild populations, and if one excludes over 2,700 accessioned plants in the natural areas (such as Hemlock Hill, which is a mix of wild and planted hemlocks), 53 percent of the collections are from the wild. That is quite the illustration of focused and deliberate collections development.\nDesigning the Collections\nPerhaps the most significant outcome from the 1979 restoration plan was the recognition of historical planting areas, as articulated loosely using the Bentham and Hooker linear sequence. Richard Weaver created maps for each family and major genus, using red colored pencil to illustrate where new plantings should go (or, in some cases, errant shrubs should be returned). This reordering was meant to fix what were perceived as random horticultural plantings, particularly those from the mid-twentieth century.\nAll gardens need redefinition from time to time, and many areas within the Arboretum received edits over the past fifty years. For instance, Rhodie Dell the collection of broadleaved Rhododendron along Bussey Brook at the base of Hemlock Hill was renovated in 1990 with the Davison Path laid out by Julie Moir Messervy. The landscape around the Hunnewell Visitor Center received a new look by Carol Johnson after the building was renovated in 1993. In 2007, Beatrix Farrand's Azalea Border along Meadow Road received an infusion of new material following the removal of declining individuals.\nOne of the major goals Sargent described in 1922 was the creation of a rose garden, and in 1985 the Arboretum made good on this promise. A gift by Eleanor Cabot Bradley and an innovative design by Gary Koller created the Bradley Rosaceous Collection. Located near the ponds and replacing the existing shrub collection (where many of the Rosaceous shrubs grew already), this semi-formal garden adjacent the Forest Hills Gate became and continues to be a public gathering space and programming site. Updates completed in 2011 (by Julie Moir Messervy) improved circulation and display potential, and two wrought-iron arbors designed by Peter Andruchow added spaces for climbing roses.\nWhile the Bradley created a significant destination for visitors, the diaspora of shrubs and vines from the earlier shrub garden led to a problem. Many of the vines were moved to chain-link fences on the perimeter, becoming challenges to maintain, while sun-requiring shrubs now grown in the shade under their arboreal cousins did not always fare well. To ameliorate this dilemma, the Arboretum needed a new shrub and vine collection, and with a gift from Frances Leventritt, the Victor M. and Frances Leventritt Shrub and Vine Garden was created in 2002. Designed by Reed Hilderbrand, this formal garden would house sun-loving shrubs and vines on property to the north of the Dana Greenhouses, on space previously occupied by the old hedge and dwarf conifer collection. Unlike other areas of the Arboretum's collections, the shrubs and vines grown here were to receive intense horticultural care and inspire ideas for home landscapes.\nPeters Hill, often neglected due to a lack of resources and its distance from the hub of operations, began to receive attention starting with a curatorial review in 1993. Low-value plants were deaccessioned; new plantings (particularly crabapples and deciduous gymnosperms) followed; and a bus turnaround at the summit was removed and renovated to support plant collections in 1997. Another major change occurred in 1996 when the South Street Tract was combined with land owned by the Massachusetts Bay Transportation Authority and the City of Boston, creating what is now known as the Bussey Brook Meadow, a twenty-six-acre urban wild with the Blackwell Path connecting Forest Hills Station to the South Street Gate.\nStewarding the Collections\nIn his 1971 report, Richard Howard noted that his highest priority was the maintenance of the living collections. His successors possessed the same agenda, mustering resources to support them as creativity and windfall allowed. Over time, work at the Case Estates waned to the point that by 1991 the horticultural staff in Weston shifted permanently to care for the collections in Boston. (The final sale of the Case Estates occurred in 2017.) Ongoing growth in the Arboretum's endowment, particularly during the capital campaign ending in 2000, allowed further staffing increases, and restricted endowments for areas like the Bradley Rosaceous Collection and the Leventritt Shrub and Vine Garden funded exclusive and dedicated horticulturists to care for each high-maintenance area.\nAnother major shift in resourcing occurred with the launch of the Landscape Management Plan in 2008, a charge led by Richard Schulhof (the deputy director) and implemented by Stephen Schneider (then the manager of horticulture). Recognizing the value of having already designated horticulturists in several areas, such as the Shrub and Vine Garden, the Landscape Management Plan expanded the perspective to all areas of the Arboretum landscape. The landscape was divided into zones, with individual horticulturists assigned to steward each according to goals specific to each area. The plan also directed the work of arborists as they rotated through the collections, and landscape staff as they maintained meadows, turf, and pathways.\nIn addition to performing the day-to-day care of the collections, horticulturists must contend with periodic natural disasters, pests, and diseases. Though not as cataclysmic as that infamous and unnamed hurricane that struck in 1938 (which destroyed some fifteen hundred trees), the 1997 April Fool's Day storm dumped over two and a half feet of snow on a collection previously plagued by past droughts. Over four hundred trees had to be removed that season, while another thirteen hundred remained but required arboricultural care. Pathogens and pests are a persistent threat to the collections. For instance, in the 1980s and 1990s, phytoplasmas plagued the lilac (Syringa) collection, and in 1997, hemlock woolly adelgid arrived at the Arboretum's doorstep to forever change the face of Hemlock Hill, a unique natural landscape where black birch (Betula lenta) are slowly replacing the hemlocks (Tsuga). And, in 2018, many old beeches (Fagus) were removed due to decline caused by the arrival of beech bark disease. All three of these collections the lilacs, hemlocks, and beeches are nationally accredited, so their stewardship in response to these outbreaks is especially significant. The Landscape Management Plan includes response plans for disaster and plant healthcare issues like these.\nIn late 2019, Andrew Gapinski, as manager of horticulture, transformed the third edition of the Landscape Management Plan into a dynamic, digital format known as the Landscape Management System. As part of the system, a smartphone and desktop application called ArbManager replaced the paper forms (the 'green cards') exchanged between horticultural and curatorial staff to communicate about work requests, while an internal website, ArbDashboard, synthesized horticultural and plant records data into a map-based system. Both of these tools provide living collections staff instant access to collections-care directives, whether they are in an office or fifty feet up a tree and accessing the information from a phone.\nRecording the Collections\nThe Arboretum is replete with uniquely accessioned plants, each richly documented with source histories, observations, photographs, herbarium specimens, and maps a tradition dating back to the institution's founding. In Howard's 1972 annual report, he noted how the card catalog entries the original paper database for the living collections, if you will were incorporated into the Plant Records Center of the American Horticultural Society. This initial digitization effort was championed by Howard when he was president of the American Association of Botanical Gardens and Arboreta. The shared database gave gardens the chance to store computerized records off-site (as a preservation initiative) and recall specialized lists of plants on demand (for instance, all plants in a given location within a garden).\nIn 1985, the Arboretum's plant records and systems (including definitions, workflows, and philosophies) seeded a new database eventually called BG-BASE. The Arboretum now had local access to its data, which revolutionized how the Arboretum and finally other gardens curated their collections. At first, the database only included living plants; however, funding from the Institute of Museum and Library Services (IMLS) in 2010 allowed staff to integrate legacy data from old index cards into BG-BASE, providing access to historic collections that had long ago perished. An earlier IMLS grant, in 2001, enabled the digitization of records for some fifty thousand vouchers from the herbarium of cultivated plants, adding even more data and research value to plants that grow or grew in the living collections.\nHand-drawn maps had recorded the locations of plants growing in the collections since 1938, and in 1987, cartography went digital due to support from IMLS. Initially, AutoCAD served as the digital platform; however, in 2010, the platform shifted into ESRI ArcGIS, a more robust geographic information system. This change was timely, as the IMLS grant in 2010 also allowed for the scanning and georeferencing of some two thousand hand-drawn maps, providing staff the ability to view like a digital flip-book the historic collections over time. Coincident with the legacy of mapping has been the annual inventory process, whereby all accessioned plants are field-checked on a five-year cycle. Whereas earlier field observations required paper cards, notebooks, and copies of maps, the current team led by Kyle Port, the manager of plant records, employs live connections to the database in the field using laptops and tablet computers. I wonder what Professor Sargent would think if he could witness such activities in action!\nWhile countless other initiatives over the past fifty years led to curatorial reviews and data acquisition, one final, and significant, venture was a multi-year verification project funded by the National Science Foundation in 1984. This project led to the vouchering (using herbarium specimens) of the living collections. The vouchers were then distributed to taxonomic specialists around the world who verified the identity of each plant. The effort yielded positive (as well as negative) identifications and fostered international research interest in the living collections.\nUsing the Collections\nWhile this article mostly reflects the living collections and their change over time, to leave out access and use would be a grave mistake. The Arboretum is not a private collection but is, in fact, very public. Due to the porous nature of the Arboretum, visitor counts have always been a rough guess. Until recently, estimates of annual visitors were in the 'hundreds of thousands,' which at the time may have been accurate. However, a people counter at the popular Arborway Gate one of more than a dozen entrances tallied some 825,000 hits from September 2020 to September 2021. This number includes ins-and-outs as well as pass-throughs, yet even with a conservative estimate of half this total (equal in and out hits) of 400,000 visitors at this single gate, it is safe to assume that well over a million people, and perhaps over twice that number, visit the Arboretum each year.\nAfter the Bussey Institution ceased to exist and much of the herbarium and library migrated to Cambridge, it had become more difficult for the living collections to readily serve scholars. However, engaging scholars to use the living collections has long been an area of interest of mine, even before joining the staff, and was one of the reasons I was hired into this role fifteen years ago. Luckily, much work had been initiated before my arrival. Five decades of field exploration yielded a collection rich in botanical diversity and wild provenance: research specimens little different from what a scholar could find in the natural environment. Year-over-year improvements in horticultural care provided healthier plants available for study. Ongoing vouchering, verification, and inventory initiatives add rich documentation to the plant records, all of which have been searchable online for over two decades.\nFunding also helped bring scholars to the collections. In 1988, initial support (and later an endowment) provided by George and Nancy Putnam created the Putnam Fellowship specifically for those conducting independent research and project work using the collections. These and other competitive awards have helped to remove financial barriers that might otherwise prevent research from occurring.\nLastly, in 2011, the Weld Hill research facility opened. While it was initiated and built during the administration of Bob Cook and opened and staffed shortly after Ned Friedman became director, the facility was inspired by Peter Ashton, who attempted to reinstall scholarship within the Arboretum landscape during his tenure. Now, after some seventy-five years since the Bussey Institution closed, research and its requisite facilities are unified with the Arboretum's living collections. As a result, visiting scholars from all over the world can work in state-of-the-art laboratories just footsteps from the living collections. Shortly after I began my work at the Arboretum, about a dozen projects occurred in the collections each year. Currently, some seventy-five to one hundred projects use the living collections, landscapes, and environments annually.\nThe Fourth Fifty Years\nThe year 2072 seems so far off. I doubt that I'll be above ground, or if I am, how well I will be able to peruse the collections as they celebrate their bicentennial. Still, if I am around at that time, just a few years shy of my own centennial year, I would like to see the trees from the 1977 expedition to Korea and Japan spreading their branches among the overstory of the collection. I would like to see plants from the Campaign for the Living Collections: some of those trees have recently been released from the nursery and are already taller than me. I'm confident that many will have become standouts the masterpieces of a new generation and subjects of research that we would find impossible to imagine in 2022.\nAnd of course, I would also make my way over to the giant sequoia that overlooks Bussey Brook, checking in to see how it had fared. No doubt, it will have weathered droughts and blizzards, perhaps even a lightning strike due to its ever-increasing height. But I like to imagine it will still be standing, a silent sentry watching over Harvard's tree museum."},{"has_event_date":0,"type":"arnoldia","title":"Saving the World's Threatened Trees","article_sequence":8,"start_page":34,"end_page":43,"url":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/\/action\/directLinkImage?assetId=25754","featured_photo":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/servlet\/display?file=b34509f9d4e0d170a76b.jpg","volume":79,"issue_number":"1","year":2022,"series":null,"season":null,"authors":"Alvarez-Clare, Silvia; Shaw, Kristy; Pocock, Sarah","article_content":"Hiking through the hot, dry canyons at the base of the Sierra La Laguna peaks in Baja California Sur, Mexico, it is impossible to miss the beautiful arroyo oaks (Quercus brandegeei). The trees border the banks of the seasonal streams (or arroyos) like kneeling giants washing their limbs in the refreshing water. What is less obvious is that these represent a relict species that can only be found here, along the riparian zones of the Sierra La Laguna Biosphere Reserve, a biodiversity hotspot with high levels of endemism and great beauty. Each November, the tree canopies fill with elongated acorns that cause a lively commotion as birds, beetles, and rodents frantically eat the fruit on the trees and underneath. Ranchers value the trees too, frequently building corrals under their merciful shade and collecting acorns to feed livestock. However, populations of the arroyo oak are declining. There is no evident seedling regeneration, and the remaining trees are all more than one hundred years old. Until recently, the cause for decline was mostly unknown.\nAcross the globe from the Sierra La Laguna, Mount Mulanje known as the 'island in the sky' rises from the plains of southeastern Malawi with such sheer contrast that it creates its own climate and flora. Best known and most impressive of the forest trees is the cedar that takes its name from these mountains. The Mulanje cedar (Widdringtonia whytei) is highly valued for its durable and fragrant timber, but due to overexploitation and illegal logging, the cedar has reached the point of near extinction. A similar fate is faced by a rare magnolia (Magnolia grandis) found only in the forested limestone mountains of southern China and northern Vietnam. With its large, leathery leaves growing to over a foot in length, this magnolia coexists in tiny forest fragments with other critically endangered species, including the strikingly unique Tonkin snub-nosed monkey. Recruitment of new seedlings is impaired by local agricultural practices in which farmers clear vegetation before planting cardamom and repeatedly weed out the magnolia to maintain their crop. Fewer than three hundred adult trees remain in small, isolated populations.\nThe loss of trees is a global problem. Evidence of declining populations, illegal logging, lack of regeneration, and new pests and diseases has been looming over our heads for decades. Until last fall, however, the complete picture of the status of the planet's tree diversity was unknown. The State of the World's Trees, published in September 2021, shares the results of the Global Tree Assessment the first conservation audit of most of the world's nearly sixty thousand species. The results show that 30 percent of all tree species more than 17,500 species are threatened with extinction. That's more than double the total combined number of globally threatened mammals, birds, reptiles, and amphibians.\nThe Global Tree Assessment also reveals that at least 142 tree species are recorded as extinct. Losing even a single species can have severe consequences for an ecosystem. As primary producers at the base of the food chain, plants, including trees, are the building blocks of ecosystems essential to all life on this planet. Myriad species of plants, animals, and fungi are intrinsically linked to trees, often interacting within complex and fascinating relationships that both parties depend on for survival. In addition, individual tree species play numerous economic, ecological, and cultural roles. We depend on trees in our everyday lives they provide us with food, timber, and medicine. According to the assessment, at least one in five tree species has a recorded human use, and many have a variety of different uses. While the challenges and scale of the problem in maintaining tree species diversity are significant, we can do something about it.\nA Global Campaign\nThe State of the World's Trees is a sobering reminder that trees need our help. The Global Trees Campaign is coled by Botanic Gardens Conservation International (BGCI) and Fauna & Flora International (FFI). Through this effort, researchers, conservationists, and on-the-ground partners have been working together since 1999 to reduce threats and secure or recover target populations of threatened tree species through in situ action. Since its establishment, the campaign has worked to conserve over four hundred threatened tree species in more than fifty countries, and the team has trained more than ten thousand people in tree conservation skills.\nBotanic gardens and arboreta have been vital partners in this effort. Since 2017, for example, The Morton Arboretum, near Chicago, has led a Global Trees Campaign project that aims to safeguard the arroyo oak (Quercus brandegeei) of Baja California Sur. Researchers collected genetic, phenological, and ecological data on this endangered species to explore the causes of decline and identify conservation and management actions needed to save it from extinction. The team established fenced exclosures to quantify the effect of grazing and trampling by free-roaming livestock on seedling survival and growth. They found that cattle and goats eat the seedlings while pigs eat the acorns a combination that prevents any natural regeneration from occurring. To combat these threats, Mexican scientists, land managers, ranchers, and international experts are working together to implement a management plan for this species. Among their actions, the team has conducted plantings within fenced areas to boost population recovery; they have encouraged ranchers to adopt oak seedlings and plant them within their fenced gardens; and they have worked with land managers to establish larger grazing-free zones within the reserve.\nAs illustrated by the work safeguarding the arroyo oak, effective conservation should be informed by accurate baseline information, including a thorough understanding of the species biology, specific threats, and potential actions to mitigate and reverse the decline. Scientific research is one of the cornerstones of the Global Trees Campaign. Once the baseline information is gathered, tree conservationists must develop a plan to improve the success of the interventions. The planning can prioritize individual species, like the arroyo oak or the Mulanje cedar, or larger groups of tree species present in the same area or experiencing similar threats.\nIn Kenya, for instance, Global Trees Campaign partners collaborated with the Kenya Forest Service and the Conservation Planning Specialist Group (part of the International Union for Conservation of Nature) to organize a series of online workshops focused on planning conservation action for Kenya's threatened trees. The workshops brought together key stakeholders to evaluate the results of an analysis for Kenya's more than 140 threatened tree species. This effort helped prioritize sites for conservation by grouping threatened species that are likely to benefit from the same conservation activities. During these workshops, the participants developed a joint vision statement and goals, and they identified actions at national and regional levels. The Global Trees Campaign plans to continue using this larger-scale approach in the future, maximizing efforts and often achieving more cost-effective results than approaches focused on individual species.\nComprehensive Information\nBefore the State of the World's Trees was published, comprehensive information was lacking on which tree species are threatened with extinction and where conservation efforts should be directed. Some assessments were available on the International Union for Conservation of Nature's Red List of Threatened Species and national Red List publications. Still, the information was not easily accessible, and the scale of the problem was unknown. To produce a global overview of the conservation status of trees, the Global Trees Assessment team collated existing assessments, and each species was assigned one of six risk categories: extinct, threatened, possibly threatened, not threatened, data deficient, and not evaluated. Although this effort alone was an enormous task that took more than five years and five hundred contributors, it also revealed the information gaps regarding many tree species. In the report, well over seven thousand species were classified as data deficient, meaning there wasn't enough information for an assessment. Moreover, assessments for many little-known tree species are often based on historic herbarium records that may misrepresent recent changes in land use or loss of populations. Further survey work is therefore required.\nThe information from the Global Tree Assessment can be accessed online via a public web platform, the GlobalTree Portal. The portal highlights the scale of the problem and provides information on the numbers of species found in at least one protected area (as well as species not represented in any protected areas). The portal also shows which species are present in, or absent from, ex situ collections, such as botanical gardens and seed banks. According to the GlobalTree Portal, approximately 56 percent of threatened tree species occur in at least one protected area, and 21 percent are maintained in botanic gardens or seed banks. Another online tool, Conservation Tracker, provides real-time information on who is taking conservation action for which species. These tools will be updated regularly, helping to guide ongoing conservation efforts. The idea is that on-the-ground efforts, such as Global Tree Campaign projects, will use this information and contribute new data as they evolve, creating an information feedback loop that will result in effective conservation actions.\nTargeted Action\nAccording to the Global Tree Assessment report, agriculture and logging are the leading threats to trees globally. When managed effectively, protected areas can provide vital protection against this kind of habitat loss, but in some cases, ecological constraints and threats within protected areas can still prevent or limit regeneration. For instance, even though the arroyo oak occurs within the Sierra La Laguna Biosphere Reserve, natural regeneration has been impossible due to grazing. Tree conservationists must therefore identify and remove barriers to natural regeneration, although additional interventions may be necessary for many species, such as those with extremely small populations. In such cases, planting can be an essential strategy to increase population numbers or reintroduce a species.\nIn the case of Magnolia grandis, with a global population totaling fewer than three hundred adult trees, targeted action was needed to ensure the future of the species. Since 2013, as part of the Global Trees Campaign, FFI has developed an outreach program with local cardamom growers at Tung Vai Watershed Protection Area in Vietnam. These efforts are paying off, with local cardamom farmers now willingly maintaining M. grandis seedlings, indicating a shift in attitudes and behavior towards this species. Over the same period, regular community monitoring and patrolling to protect trees from logging was introduced, resulting in no felling or damage to M. grandis individuals at Tung Vai since 2017. In addition, local communities have adopted fuel-efficient stoves, reducing pressure for firewood. Given the low number of individual trees in the original populations, tree conservationists are conducting booster plantings using nursery-grown seedlings. Natural regeneration of M. grandis is now occurring in other areas of the forest where previously there was none, indicating that recovery work over the last eight years has been successful.\nFor the Mulanje cedar (Widdringtonia whytei) from Malawi, illegal logging was so intense that it removed the natural seed source from the mountain, and increased man-made fires impeded recruitment of remaining seedlings and young trees. As part of a campaign project led by Mulanje Mountain Conservation Trust, the Forestry Research Institute of Malawi, and BGCI, staff set up eight community nurseries around Mount Mulanje with more than eighty community members who had been taught to propagate the Mulanje cedar. Over four hundred thousand seedlings were purchased from community nurseries and planted by local people, providing employment opportunities and vital income. Restoration experts from the Ecological Restoration Alliance of Botanic Gardens are also helping to improve planting practices so that more trees survive and grow better. An extensive network of firebreaks is maintained on the mountain to protect planted seedlings.\nFurthermore, international trade of the Mulanje cedar was restricted when the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species of Wild Fauna and Flora (a multinational agreement often known as CITES) included the cedar on its list of species that are potentially threatened with extinction. Alternative sustainable uses of cedar are being investigated that could provide additional benefits to local people. Essential oils can be produced from the tree's wood and leaves, and researchers have investigated the components of this oil to identify commercial uses, like soaps. Communities around Mount Mulanje have planted Mulanje cedar hedges from which essential oil can be extracted, and distillation equipment and training are currently being provided. This effort offers local communities alternative incomes from the Mulanje cedar that don't damage Mount Mulanje or its plant resources. The conservation team also planted ex situ trial plots and woodlots elsewhere in Malawi. These actions aim to ensure the planted trees on the mountain remain safe for the long term.\nWhatever approach is taken to reduce threats, improve natural regeneration, or restore populations of the tree species, the full engagement and participation of local stakeholders is key to the success of all tree conservation initiatives. This ensures that the approach is appropriate to the local context, has local ownership and support, and is more likely to achieve a lasting impact.\nThreatened Trees in Restoration\nTrees capture carbon from the atmosphere a fact that has drawn increasing interest given that runaway levels of carbon dioxide are a significant driver of climate change. And trees are also essential components of many habitat-restoration projects. As a result, governments and organizations around the world are investing in large-scale tree planting. These tree-planting pledges and restoration projects provide an opportunity to deliver on conservation goals by incorporating threatened species into the planting plan. However, this opportunity is often missed; many tree-planting projects focus only on exotic species or, even in the case of restoration plantings, only a small number of native species.\nAt Jardim Bot\u00e2nico Ararib\u00e1, in the State of S\u00e3o Paulo, Brazil, a team has been working on a forest restoration project since 1987, intending to restore not only specific plant species but also the entire ecosystem. The efforts at the garden are an exemplar of how threatened species can be incorporated into a successful restoration program. The garden is situated on one of the few remaining fragments of Atlantic Forest. Despite the status of the Atlantic Forest as an important biodiversity hotspot, this forest type is recognized as one of the most degraded ecosystems on the planet. So far, the garden staff has restored about fifty acres (two-thirds of the site). Due to this restoration, headwaters that supply water to Amparo, the closest city, have reappeared. The restored forest protects the riverbanks, preventing silt build-up and protecting the river water.\nThe restoration plantings at Jardim Bot\u00e2nico Ararib\u00e1 feature threatened species, including the endangered brazilwood (Paubrasilia echinata) and another critically endangered species in the legume family, Chloroleucon tortum. The plants for the restoration are grown in partnership with a commercial nursery that also supplies these native tree seedlings to customers for planting in their local area. As a result, the species are becoming part of the local supply chain of native tree species in S\u00e3o Paulo.\nScaling Up Conservation Action\nWith such a vast number of trees at risk of extinction worldwide, a significant scaling up of conservation action is urgently needed. To increase effectiveness and avoid duplication of effort, tree conservationists should mobilize at national levels. It's also crucial to coordinate efforts around specific taxonomic groups, especially genera or families with a high number of threatened species. Species within the same taxonomic group share many characteristics, and they may be subject to the same or similar threats. Therefore, related species are likely to benefit from the same conservation actions.\nBGCI and the botanic garden community have established groups known as Global Conservation Consortia, which are developing comprehensive conservation strategies for highly threatened taxonomic groups identified by the Global Trees Assessment. The consortia aim to coordinate in situ and ex situ conservation efforts and disseminate species recovery knowledge. For example, the Global Conservation Consortium for Oak, led by The Morton Arboretum, mobilizes experts and local partners to conserve oaks, a culturally and economically important taxonomic group that cannot be protected in seed banks. As part of these efforts, the team has organized educational webinars, provided training on seed collection and species propagation, and coordinated regional meetings and workshops focused on filling knowledge gaps for species of conservation concern. To date, Global Conservation Consortia have been developed for six tree groups: oaks (Quercus), magnolias (Magnolia), rhododendrons (Rhododendron), maples (Acer), southern beeches (Nothofagus), and the dipterocarp family (Dipterocarpaceae). These groups include more than eight hundred threatened species, and the model is now also being applied to highly threatened non-tree groups.\nNational coordination of tree conservation efforts is also a valuable approach, as the collaborations in Kenya have demonstrated. The GlobalTree Portal allows tree conservationists to identify countries with high numbers of threatened tree species, especially those with high numbers of threatened endemics. These countries must be priorities for coordinated conservation. Indonesia, for instance, has almost seven hundred threatened tree species, with ongoing habitat- and species-level threats providing little chance for their recovery without dedicated conservation action. While many large-scale conservation programs are dedicated to the country's flagship animals (such as elephants, orangutans, and tigers) or to large areas of high-carbon forest, few initiatives are specifically designed around the conservation needs of individual threatened tree species in situ.\nThrough the Global Trees Campaign, FFI has successfully engaged the Indonesian government in threatened tree conservation. As a first step, FFI established the Indonesian Forum for Threatened Trees, a group of more than seventy members from at least thirty different institutions. The forum convinced the Ministry of Environment and Forestry to consider adding twelve threatened tree species to their list of priority species. So far, one of these trees, a critically endangered dipterocarp known as Vatica javanica ssp. javanica has become legally designated as a National Protected Species. In 2019, the Forum for Threatened Trees and the Indonesian Institute of Sciences published a ten-year national conservation strategy for the twelve priority species. At the same time, FFI also seeks to build capacity for organizations working on threatened trees and inspire new action for priority species.\nMobilizing a Global Community\nIn contrast to the numerous well-known flagship animal species, threatened trees have gained little attention from governments, funders, conservation organizations, the corporate sector, and the public. With 30 percent of tree species shown to be at risk of extinction, this needs to change. Tree conservation requires a concerted response from the global community, with all different regions and sectors engaging and taking action. Botanic gardens and arboreta are in a strategic position at the intersection of research, outreach, and conservation and can play a critical role in safeguarding the world's tree species. The urgency of the situation, however, requires an 'all hands on deck' approach.\nPolicymakers at all levels (global, national, and local) need to incorporate and prioritize threatened trees within legislative frameworks. Intergovernmental and international organizations need to promote and share data from the Global Tree Assessment with their networks and integrate threatened tree conservation into their programs. The corporate sector has an expanded role to play, particularly companies engaged in timber, agriculture, and extractive industries. Land managers, including governments, are key actors in securing critical habitat. Members of the conservation organizations need to prioritize threatened trees within their programs, supporting action on the ground and generating a higher profile for this issue. The tree-planting and habitat-restoration sector have an unrivaled opportunity to integrate threatened trees within their work, contributing significantly to saving species while meeting their other goals. There is a role, too, for the research community. Researchers are necessary for filling information gaps on threatened species and demonstrating the role of tree species diversity in ecosystem resilience. Moreover, there is a need for committed individuals global citizens who advocate on behalf of threatened trees. Now is the time to act."},{"has_event_date":0,"type":"arnoldia","title":"The Making of Arboretum Wespelaar","article_sequence":9,"start_page":44,"end_page":53,"url":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/\/action\/directLinkImage?assetId=25767","featured_photo":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/servlet\/display?file=b34509f9d4e0d14ea36a.jpg","volume":79,"issue_number":"1","year":2022,"series":null,"season":null,"authors":"de Spoelberch, Philippe","article_content":"Whether an arboretum has ten trees or thousands, many of the same management concepts hold true. Yet new collectors often progress through trial and error, as though no one else had gone through the same process. I began raising trees from seed in my garden in the late 1960s. As with many mad collectors (no matter what is being collected), I started the whole thing without much forethought it just began one day. But I kept going and expanded the collection into neighboring woods and meadows. In 2003, I established Arboretum Wespelaar as an independent institution in a small village north of Brussels, Belgium.\nMy family had operated the Artois brewery for generations, so I was fortunate to have the means and the space to begin such a collection. (Artois is now part of Anheuser-Bush InBev, and we are today just long-term family shareholders.) I also had the opportunity of starting early, having good advice from my father, who loved trees, and I was curious and determined to know more. I remember my father kidding me because I did not immediately see the difference between a young beech (Fagus) and hornbeam (Carpinus) or, worse, a spruce (Picea) and Douglas fir (Pseudotsuga). I would not get caught again.\nI returned to Belgium in 1969, after getting a graduate degree in business administration from Columbia University, with 150 seedlings in a big bag. In those days, you could carry about anything on a plane. Most of the seedlings had germinated in a wooden Borden milk box on the terrace of my apartment in New York. I had collected others during a trip to California just before my return. Fifty years later, the redwood (Sequoia sempervirens) from that trip are the tallest and girthiest trees on the estate and arboretum.\nWhile working as a young brewery salesman in my late twenties, I visited dozens of gardens and arboreta around the world. I started buying plants at local nurseries and then European specialist nurseries. The collection spread from the garden around my house (twenty-five acres) into what was to become the arboretum (eventually fifty acres). For the first twenty-five years, I had the help of a single gardener. Now, five-full time gardeners manage the arboretum and the nearby garden at Herkenrode. Over the years, we learned by doing.\nPreparing the Ground\nWhen we began, two kinds of areas were used: meadows and woodlands. Both needed some kind of intervention. I learned this at my expense. Our first foray into the woodlands was done without concern for honey fungus (Armillaria mellea), which causes root rot. As trees were cut to open vistas, we left stumps, and the fungus soon got the best of many choice plants. We did not make this mistake when extending the collections into the old oak wood now in the arboretum: All shrubs and undergrowth were removed with a rotary cutter and uprooted. All deadwood was removed. We did not have additional honey fungus problems, but this exercise did little for the soil structure. It took years before moles arrived, finally suggesting improvements in soil structure and aeration (performed by millions of worms).\nThe old meadows required a different approach. Cattle had trampled and compacted the soils. As a result, it was necessary to plow these areas before planting. In one case, we even allowed a local farmer to grow corn for two seasons. Without soil preparation, the plants sulk, never sending roots beyond the planting hole and eventually drowning there, at least in a flat part of the world like Flanders. After plowing, we created mounds and planted the trees upon them, allowing the water to drain. Initially, it looked as if I was trying to create a minigolf course, but visitors were kind enough to say that the whole thing was not too ridiculous. By now, the result is spectacular. You can easily see that the trees planted on mounds are at an advantage, and the movement in the terrain provides some visual appeal.\nSourcing the Plants\nI have long enjoyed plant propagation. Like many kids, I was fascinated with seeing seeds burst into growth. I was even scolded in school for growing wheat in the inkpot of my desk. The arboretum and the nearby gardens currently contain almost eleven thousand living accessions of woody plants. Of these, 50 percent were raised by us from seed, cuttings, and collected seedlings. Many originated from expeditions to the wild. My first trip was to Nepal in 1975, and successive annual trips (often with the International Dendrology Society) have targeted every possible temperate locale, from California to Hokkaido.\nWhen seeds arrive throughout the autumn and winter, we place them straight into the refrigerator. A numbered label is added to the individual bag and accompanies the seed through subsequent steps. The label is essential. (It is embarrassing to admit that you do not remember the origin of a beautiful plant.) The seed lots accumulate until March, when they are sown in pots. Of course, many seeds could be sown outside when they arrive (the cold, moist winter conditions are generally suitable for this), but mice will always find them and have a feast. Ungerminated seed pots should be allowed to go through another winter, because belated surprises can always be expected. Seedlings are repotted when big enough to withstand the shock (two or four true leaves above the cotyledon) but basically when we have the time. Seedlings can stay crowded in a pot for many months.\nAs a precaution, always split a collection of rare seeds into several lots and treat each set differently. Some twenty years ago, I received a hundred seeds of a recently discovered species of magnolia (Magnolia decidua, then known as Manglietia decidua) from China. I kept fifty seeds and distributed the others in equal sets to five good propagators and magnolia enthusiasts. One morning, I had a look at my tray and realized that a fungus had killed all fifty seedlings. I was hoping that my five colleagues would have succeeded. One had died; one did not remember receiving the seeds. Of the others, Tom Hudson (of Tregrehan Garden in Cornwall) and Dick Figlar (of the Magnolia Society International) had managed to grow the seedlings and are responsible for all specimens of this species in cultivation, including the one at Arboretum Wespelaar.\nCuttings are collected between the end of May until mid-August. Every time we purchase a plant, we immediately take cuttings, given that cuttings from young plants often root more easily. For example, I took cuttings on a young Magnolia 'Elizabeth' three years in a row; out of five cuttings taken each time on the first, second, and fourth year, we succeeded at propagating five, two, and then none. The winter months are hard for the cuttings; even perfectly rooted cuttings will decay under the attack of fungi. Healthy white roots go brown, and the base of the unhardened cuttings does too; the cutting dries up. We have not been very good at keeping our cuttings growing, but these losses can be a relief. We still end up with too many plants: some five hundred cuttings and seedlings every year, which will have to be looked after for another three to ten years.\nSmall seedlings can be collected along roads and edges of woodlands. These will travel well if kept in relatively dry moss, packed in plastic bags or plastic water bottles. (Obviously, you must be respectful of rules and legal restrictions.) We also purchase plants, mainly in pots. The smaller, the better. I have had much disappointment with large plants. Small plants are, of course, cheaper and can be grown to a good size in one of our nurseries until ready for final planting in the arboretum.\nPlanting the Landscape\nWe have used three temporary nurseries around the garden and arboretum. Good woodland soil and shade from large trees provide the ideal growing conditions for our small plants and seedlings. It is ideal to observe your plants until they have suffered a bad winter. It gives you the time to decide where to plant them. They will transplant with a good lump of soil (unlike the miserable peat ball with circling roots that you find at the average garden center). We have seldom failed in transplanting a young tree or shrub raised in these woodland nurseries. On the other hand, we have lost many plants in the first few years in these sites. But better there than in the grounds after an expensive effort at planting!\nWe rarely place a plant directly into its final location. Most spend as long as five years in the nurseries. Few people like the idea; it seems like double work. But I consider not taking this intermediate step to be a grave mistake. Many recently acquired plants will die, and given this reality, I like them to die in the nursery. I have often thought it would have been much better to collect art of any kind and, like a dendrologist, throw two-thirds of the collection away and enjoy the remaining successes. At least, works of art generally gain value over time, whereas aging trees become an expensive problem.\nWhen it comes time for siting the plants, we use a homegrown method involving playing cards. I do not know who came up with the idea, but we have used it for fifty years. We staple two sets of plasticized playing cards (reds and blues) onto plants in the nursery. The identity of the plant and its card is written up on a special form. A corresponding set of playing cards is placed on 104 bamboo sticks, which are reused for several years. We then take a walk through the grounds, staking locations for each of the plants. We aim to get rid of all the bamboo stakes while trying to remain intelligent and effective and still get home in time for dinner. It takes us, in general, up to five hours to place two sets of cards. Of course, we could write the plant's name on the stick, but it is much easier to spot the cards from a distance.\nWe often situate the plants in taxonomic groupings. So, when we're placing the bamboo stakes, we first attempt to place a viburnum, for instance, within the viburnum section. If there is no space left, we find room elsewhere. Obviously, you must know what condition the plant enjoys, how big it will become, and so forth. One becomes better at this with time, but the proper planting distance is always a terrible illusion. Someone once pointed out that when there was a gap between two trees and you add a young tree between them, you end up with two additional gaps. I must admit that I have found myself planting two new trees in such spaces. Discipline is essential.\nLarge trees should be planted at least fifty feet apart, yet we have many at half that distance. We will remove one of them in due course. Trees should not be planted near the edge of a woodland, or they will grow slanted. Likewise, groups of three an arrangement beloved by landscape architects should be avoided as none of the three will end up as a balanced specimen. (This is not a problem for shrubs and small trees.) These conservative approaches will make your arboretum look rather dull for many years, so you have to suffer the irony of friends and guests. Most do not understand what is going on. I like to think that I do not need to see my trees in old age; I know what they will look like. Other plant collectors are more impatient.\nCataloguing and Labeling\nWhen beginning a catalogue for a plant collection, it is a good idea to think carefully over what software to use and then leverage its capabilities to the greatest extent. These days, you may want to consider using relational database software, but a single spreadsheet can be equally effective. Take some time to sit down and think over the structure. Some curators will suggest that at least twenty fields are necessary, but I recommend a minimum of six: accession number, name, landscape location, source, date planted, and condition. Most people will also want a field for any supplementary information. The printed catalogue at Arboretum Wespelaar presently uses nine fields, out of some twenty in our Access database.\nAccession numbers are a difficult concept for beginning dendrologists. I do not know why. An accession number is no more than a simple and unique sequential number given to each plant that comes into the collection. You can give the same number to several plants provided they are from the same source, same age, and in the same location. But otherwise, give them unique sequential numbers, or you will soon regret it. Further, there is no reason to include the date within the accession number.\nOf course, everyone will want to know the age of a plant. Most curators will include the date of planting on the label, which is a good idea. But we made the mistake of including the date as part of the accession number: Our first plant bears accession number 66001, which means it was the first accession in 1966. This system was useful until the year 1999. With the millennium, we got in trouble, as the first plant of the new millennium was 00001. And it shows up first in any numbered list. We had to add two digits for the sequential listing.\nWhen it comes to the name, it is best to refer to a single accepted list, thereby avoiding spelling errors and nomenclatural issues. The Royal Horticultural Society's Plant Finder is probably the only document to be sufficiently comprehensive and regularly updated. Synonyms and taxonomic changes of names are clearly indicated in annual updates. It even includes cultivated varieties. Still, if you specialize in a certain taxon (like magnolias), you may want to use a recent monograph on that group.\nOnce this record-keeping is complete, then comes labeling the curator's nightmare. I have always had an average memory and have not relied on it to know anything. This is probably why I have been so determined to make sure that our plants are properly labeled. Our labels include the name and accession number and are made on a thick ribbon of white PET plastic cut to length and engraved with an automatic engraving machine (a Gravograph). Labels are inexpensive: we estimate that it cost us one euro to make a label with a reasonably long name.\nLabeling problems, however, are never far away. I learned plants while visiting arboreta and botanical gardens all over the world. As I explored these collections on my own, I would go to a plant, take a picture, and then search for a name. I would be exasperated if I did not find a label and sometimes astonished at the number of wrongly labeled plants I encountered. Even so, at Arboretum Wespelaar, one of our members on a study day was surprised to find a label stating Abies rufinerve on a new maple accession. (Abies, of course, is the genus of fir trees the tag should have read Acer rufinerve.) So problems occur even in the best houses.\nChange in the Collection\nArboretum Wespelaar, like any plant collection, is in a constant state of evolution. Not only do plants grow and die, but interests and goals shift as well, changing the landscape over time. Although I fell in love with conifers initially (my first plant was a white fir, Abies concolor, accessioned in 1966), I soon switched to deciduous trees, particularly maples. Around 1969, I went to a local nursery that had a seemingly good catalogue and proudly ordered one of each maple on their list. I soon found that my collection of some twenty maples was far from what the world had to offer. Would I have given up if I had realized that there were more than 120 species, along with hundreds of hybrids and cultivars? My subsequent loves were rhododendrons, magnolias, and stewartias, as proven by the number of those plants in the collection. Today, the team at the arboretum aims to acquire all of the main species in all important genera and in particular plants from wild origin.\nIt is clear that gardens, if well-curated, can contribute to the maintenance of biodiversity. The Franklin tree (Franklinia alatamaha) is a memorable example: although it went extinct in the wild in the early 1800s, the species survived in Bartram's Garden in Philadelphia. While conservation is an additional objective of Arboretum Wespelaar, our primary purpose is to ensure that people can study and learn to love plants. We have no shop, no cafeteria, and nothing for children. Dogs and joggers are not welcome. The result is that our visitors actually look at labels and take notes. I have always intended that the garden and then the arboretum should be open to the public, recognizing that I have benefited from the generosity of botanists, plant collectors, and gardeners who have opened their collections to me. In turn, it's my pleasure to welcome others and inspire them to see and know plants.\nOnce a year, usually in November, we have a difficult day when we deaccession trees, removing them from the collection. This year, we will likely deaccession around fifty plants. These are painful choices but very necessary. We have planted too much with the knowledge that we would have failures and that others wouldn't last. I am adamant that as many as possible of our trees should have lower branches on half of the crown. In due course, aesthetic considerations will always rule above other imperatives. Within a changing collection, it is always nice to have too many good things."},{"has_event_date":0,"type":"arnoldia","title":"A Time for Trees, A Time for Arboreta","article_sequence":10,"start_page":54,"end_page":57,"url":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/\/action\/directLinkImage?assetId=25764","featured_photo":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/servlet\/display?file=b34509f9d4e0d170856b.jpg","volume":79,"issue_number":"1","year":2022,"series":null,"season":null,"authors":"Donnelly, Gerard","article_content":"Planting and watching trees grow takes time. A long time. The lifespan of a tree may be the equivalent of multiple human generations. This is the good and patient work of arboreta, which requires considerable time horizons to achieve many of their purposes. At The Morton Arboretum, in Lisle, Illinois, we call this 'tree time.' The time required to establish, test, and evaluate tree collections and develop beautiful, planted landscapes that inspire people's interest and appreciation is such that only long-term, multigenerational organizations like arboreta can undertake them.\nGiven these timescales, I like to say that it is good to be old if you are an arboretum. This year, The Morton Arboretum is celebrating its centennial year, having been established by Joy Morton in 1922. Morton had been encouraged and advised by Charles Sprague Sargent of the then-fifty-year-old Arnold Arboretum of Harvard University. The Arnold Arboretum is celebrating its sesquicentennial year, founded in 1872, the same year Morton's father, J. Sterling Morton, established Arbor Day in Nebraska. The Arbor Day Foundation, created fifty years ago, in 1972, upon the Morton-family legacy of planting trees, is advocating for tree planting on the occasion of its anniversary with a theme of 'A Time for Trees.'\nThe time for trees has arrived. There has never been a time when recognition of the value of trees and tree planting was greater than it is today. Trees are being planted globally at scale to sequester carbon and cool the planet. There is widespread appreciation for the ecosystem services that trees provide in urban areas by filtering air pollution, cooling hot cities, and mitigating stormwater pulses. Numerous scientific studies show how trees contribute to human health and well-being.\nYet time has not been good for trees over the past 50, 100, and 150 years. Burgeoning human activities have drastically reduced the size and health of the world's forests as well as the diversity of trees and myriad other organisms that depend on them. In addition, climate change is already impacting trees through altered weather patterns, violent storms and floods, drought, and ravaging forest fires. Trees long-lived, stationary organisms are highly susceptible to climate change because growing conditions are changing at rates that can stress and exceed tolerances and adaptability within their lifetime.\nHow serious is the threat? The recent State of the World's Trees report by Botanic Gardens Conservation International (BGCI) is alarming. Based on the organization's Global Trees Assessment involving contributions from arboreta across the globe, including The Morton Arboretum, the report documented that 30 percent of the 58,497 known tree species in the world are threatened with extinction.\nWith the majority of the world's population now living in cities, urban forests are recognized as key assets to ensure healthful, sustainable, and climate-resilient communities. However, urban centers are challenging settings for trees to grow in and survive, let alone flourish and contribute their full complement of benefits to people, communities, and the environment. Also, trees and their benefits are not equitably distributed across urban landscapes they often reflect the disparities of resources and human demographics.\nClimate change, tree extinction, tree planting, urban forestry, and environmental justice are significant challenges that all arboreta can play a key role in addressing. But the magnitude of these issues requires the power of coordinated collaboration to have a meaningful impact. No single arboretum can do it alone.\nFor this reason and others, ten years ago, The Morton Arboretum established ArbNet as a global network of arboreta. By working together, arboreta can be better equipped to champion the cause of trees. ArbNet has identified more than 2,100 arboreta in 133 countries, all of which have a common purpose of collecting and showcasing the diversity of trees and promoting their planting and conservation.\nArbNet offers an arboretum accreditation program that recognizes standards of professional practice at four different levels of institutional capacity, encouraging the achievement of higher levels of development over time. Lockerly Arboretum in Milledgeville, Georgia, provides a good example. Initially accredited at level two in 2017, Lockerly used ArbNet accreditation standards to set development goals, including the creation of a new horticultural internship program and expanding participation in scientific research. Upon meeting these goals, Lockerly achieved level-three accreditation in 2021. ArbNet helps member institutions exchange information, expertise, and models that others can use or adapt for their purposes.\nClimate change threatens trees as well as the arboreta that maintain living collections of them. Arboreta need to conduct tree performance evaluations and risk assessments to prepare for predicted changes in growing conditions. We also need adaptation strategies that include relocating species, varieties, or specimens to arboreta with more suitable future growing conditions. ArbNet can play a key role in this. Rather than have such exchanges handled variably on a case-by-case basis, an organized system and standardized process are needed to optimize these adaptive plans. The Morton Arboretum envisions a coordinated climate adaptation strategy and program for trees among the arboreta and tree-focused gardens in North America.\nArbNet's interactive network also provides an opportunity to test tree science questions using a 'common garden' approach at arboreta in different growing zones and environmental conditions. One example of this approach is a North Dakota State University study to evaluate adaptive variation among sets of genetically identical poplars (Populus) growing at eighteen arboretum and university sites across the United States (including the Lockerly Arboretum). Researchers are using whole-genome sequencing and climate modeling to predict how plants will respond to different climate conditions in the future and inform management approaches to build climate resiliency.\nTo halt the extinction of threatened tree species, arboreta must commit institutional resources and staff expertise. We must coordinate with one another on targeted tree conservation efforts, including through programs like the Global Conservation Consortia organized by BGCI. A prominent example is the Global Conservation Consortium for Oak led by The Morton Arboretum in collaboration with BGCI and dozens of arboreta and other partners involved in oak conservation. No single arboretum or garden can or should conserve all the world's threatened oak species, so a coordinated, global effort is needed. As part of these efforts, The Morton Arboretum is establishing conservation groves on-site for two threatened species from the southeastern United States: Georgia oak (Quercus georgiana) and maple-leaved oak (Quercus acerifolia). Over tree time in 50, 100, or 150 years curators will use these collections to ensure that the species are safeguarded from extinction risks, and researchers will study what can be done to help them survive in nature.\nTree planting has risen to the forefront as a solution to blunt global climate change, given the ability of trees to sequester carbon from the atmosphere. Yet large-scale tree plantings for carbon sequestration often take the form of low-diversity tree plantations or forestry plantings that do nothing to protect tree biodiversity; they may even diminish it. Arboreta must lend their expertise in tree diversity, planting, and horticulture to improve approaches for carbon-focused tree planting and reforestation efforts. A new global biodiversity standard for large-scale tree plantings being introduced by BGCI will position arboreta and other botanical gardens as key resources to achieve these essential outcomes, ensuring effective carbon capture in addition to not at the expense of biodiversity conservation.\nArboreta also have an important role to play in supporting objectives to plant trees in urban environments to ameliorate heat, filter pollutants, mitigate stormwater flooding, and lower energy costs. Urban forests also add beauty and improve social cohesion, human health, and well-being. Arboreta know how to cultivate trees in designed and managed landscapes, but they must assert their involvement and influence with municipal planners, engineers, and landscape architects to enhance opportunities to develop healthy and sustainable urban tree canopies.\nWhen arboreta partner with community organizations and local government agencies, they can play a meaningful role in addressing the disparities in people's access to the environmental and health-related benefits of a thriving urban forest. Although this issue was not at the forefront of efforts by arboreta or botanical gardens fifty or one hundred years ago, arboreta should now actively seek funding (or commit their own resources) for equity-focused tree plantings that engage residents in participatory planning and provide training for tree planting and care. Arboreta can partner with tree nurseries and growers to provide not only the diversity of suitable trees needed for urban conditions but also at the sizes that can be managed in community and volunteer planting efforts.\nFurthermore, and aligned with the goal to engage and serve a broader spectrum of the public, arboreta must actively foster and support career paths associated with the work of an arboretum to new and different groups of people. Only with a diversified pipeline of tree experts, curators, scientists, horticulturists, conservationists, and educators will arboreta fully serve the public good.\nArboreta, with their beautiful trees and landscapes, attract a substantial public audience and provide immersive experiences and learning moments about the value of trees and nature. These are opportunities to register tree time the time it takes for a tree to reach its full potential over 50, 100, or even 150 years. These long timelines require commitments to tree planting for future generations, sustained efforts to protect them and their growing environment, and actions to address climate change and other tree threats.\nThe grand challenges of our time related to trees require arboreta and tree-focused botanical gardens to collaborate actively. Together, these institutions can achieve more meaningful and successful impacts, engaging their vast collective audience to encourage people to plant and advocate for trees and a more sustainable world. The year 2022 is certainly a time for trees and for arboreta."},{"has_event_date":0,"type":"arnoldia","title":"The Strangeness of Trees","article_sequence":11,"start_page":58,"end_page":59,"url":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/\/action\/directLinkImage?assetId=25763","featured_photo":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/servlet\/display?file=b34509f9d4e0d1708528.jpg","volume":79,"issue_number":"1","year":2022,"series":null,"season":null,"authors":"Damery, Jonathan","article_content":"The general form of a tree trunk, branches, twigs, leaves is so commonplace as to be completely unremarkable. Trees inhabit spaces that most of us experience daily, and, in fact, they often create those spaces. A low, widespread, and rather twisting elm stretches its branches over the patio of a cafe, not far from my apartment. It forms an enchanted ceiling, especially in the spring, when the samaras alight in the branches. Any tree we encounter is likewise defining its space. We move around them, beneath them, and sometimes even upon them. We're so familiar with trees that, for some of us, they feature in our earliest memories. In my case, it was a ten-foot-tall apple tree in a neighbor's backyard. (I filled a bucket with the forbidden fruit and was ordered to return it with an apology.) For Emanuele Coccia, an associate professor at the \u0192cole des Hautes \u0192tudes en Sciences Sociales, it was a trio of Italian umbrella pines viewed from the balcony of his childhood bedroom. He calls them his 'first image of the world.'\nCoccia recounts this memory in Trees, a book designed for an exhibit of the same name at Fondation Cartier, a contemporary art museum in Paris. The large-format book, published in an English translation, is the kind that you might see stacked on a coffee table in a furniture catalogue. It's filled with almost five hundred images, including field sketches, conceptual paintings, and film stills. Often, when parsing meaning from an artistic depiction of a tree, we turn to a standard suite of metaphors. We see the ancient oak, gnarled and twisted, as a symbol of endurance and solidity. We see a small tree growing from broken concrete as a reminder of perseverance. Scholars might examine specific depictions through the lens of post-colonial studies or otherwise. Yet many of the writers and artists who contribute to Trees suggest that, first and foremost, we must acknowledge trees' status as living beings, reconsidering the strangeness of their too-familiar forms.\nStefano Mancuso, the Italian biologist who is a prominent figure in the controversial field of 'plant intelligence,' leads this charge, pointing out the bizarro ingenuity of plant life. 'Like the negative of a photo, what is white in the animal world is black in the plant world,' he writes. 'Organisms that are so different from us that, as far as we are concerned, they may as well be aliens that evolved on a different planet.' Mancuso enumerates many of the differences between the lifestyles of plants and animals, including differences pertaining to movement, of course, and our inverse needs for carbon dioxide and oxygen. He emphasizes one difference as especially noteworthy: the distribution of specialized functions. While almost all animals have organs that cannot be separated from the rest of the body, plants spread these functions across their form in repeating modules. Plants, for instance, respire without organs that resemble lungs. They digest food without anything that resembles a stomach. Given this functional distribution, a Kentucky coffeetree can lose a large branch from a lightning strike (another one of my early childhood memories) yet retain its ability to produce the organic compounds needed to continue living.\nThis phenomenon of distribution, Mancuso suggests, can cause us to discount the liveliness of plants. We recognize that plants are living organisms, yet we see little of ourselves in their structure. Although we know that plants die, many of us aren't exactly sure what it means for them to be alive. Distribution, we come to recognize, is fundamental to the forms featured in Trees.\nAmong the most maximalist works in the book are Luiz Zerbini's large-scale paintings that situate trees within a jumble of urban textures. Zerbini's Mam\u00e3o Manilha shows a potted papaya (Carica papaya) growing alongside several bromeliads. Two papaya leaves sag along its trunk, preparing to join another that has already dropped to the ground. Above them, a bird opens one of several fruits, revealing the orange flesh and black seeds within, and above that, white flowers appear in large, loose clusters. The painting not only captures the modular form of the plant each leaf, each fruit, ultimately destined to be shed it also captures how this disposability becomes central to a web of other biotic interactions. The pot suggests that a human had grown the papaya in anticipation of the fruit, yet, in a war of attractions, a bird won the harvest. A series of leaf scars along the papaya's trunk also reminds us of the seasons of growth and disposal that have led to this moment. The painting is a composite an imagined place yet the plant seems to be a singular individual, forging an existence that is less than glamorous but nonetheless alive.\nThe book also includes works by Indigenous artists from several regions in South America, including the Gran Chaco, the semiarid plain that sprawls between the Paraguay River and the Andes. The works from this region are ink and paper drawings, and almost all capture interactions among trees and other organisms. A fascinating untitled work by Eurides Asque G\u2014mez shows lines of leafcutter ants trailing into their volcanic burrows carrying leaves of algarrobo trees (Prosopis nigra). The ants, in turn, are shown being picked off by partridges. According to the artist, who is quoted in an essay by Ursula and Verena Regehr, the partridges nest in grasses between the algarrobo, knowing that the ants are partial to the young leaves. Meanwhile, an ovenbird has built its nest in one tree, and birds perch on the branches of another. In this way, G\u2014mez showcases not only the modular, throw-away nature of the trees' emerging leaves a solution to being immobile targets for predators but the way that their modular structures become essential to other organisms.\nMoreover, Trees is a testament to the ways these omnipresent forms shape the lives of humans. G\u2014mez and other artists often include people in the web of arboreal interactions depicted in their art. An atmospheric scientist, Abigail Swann, describes how trees influence climate, choreographing weather patterns a fact among many in the book that reminds us that our disregard for the imperiled state of trees may precipitate our own demise. Yet, on a personal level, the artists and essayists are, themselves, residing among trees, sometimes building livelihoods around their forms. The ensemble of individuals includes landscape designers, a mathematician, the film director Agn\u008fs Varda, the American artist Charles Gaines, and many others.\nYet it is the botanist Francis Hall\u00e9 whose lifelong engagement with trees is most clearly documented in the pages. Hall\u00e9 offers forth drawings from field notebooks, prepared in rainforests around the world: Sri Lanka, C\u00f4te d'Ivoire, Peru, and elsewhere. In some sense, these field sketches represent the leaves of Hall\u00e9's career, collected and pressed within the covers of dozens of notebooks that he has labeled by date and location. 'You quickly realize that the shape of a tree, even when young is never random,' Hall\u00e9 says in an interview with Coccia. 'Each species has its own 'architectural model,' that is, a tree's growth and development follow a genetic program.'\nHall\u00e9's drawings endeavor to capture these unique forms. Among his most impressive works is a large drawing on tracing paper titled Forest Profile, which depicts dozens of trees growing in relationship with one another in French Guiana. He provides two views of the forest: from the side (a cross-section that shows the complex layering of tree canopies) and from above (showing the locations of the tree trunks and the spread of their branches). Even in this schematic form, Hall\u00e9 captures each individual's species-specific, non-random shape. His empirical approach seems like it would produce results that are more like traditional scientific illustrations, often beautiful but unsurprising. Yet through his careful attention to detail, and the disambiguation of these overlapping forms, Hall\u00e9 captures what many of the other artists in Trees likewise reveal: the strange reality of the still lives of trees."},{"has_event_date":0,"type":"arnoldia","title":"Gardens for All","article_sequence":12,"start_page":60,"end_page":63,"url":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/\/action\/directLinkImage?assetId=25765","featured_photo":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/servlet\/display?file=b34509f9d4e0d170896e.jpg","volume":79,"issue_number":"1","year":2022,"series":null,"season":null,"authors":"Mack, MaryLynn","article_content":"As an African American woman who has worked in public gardens for the past eighteen years, I often experienced firsthand the need for greater diversity. The lack of inclusion in the workspace is not an issue exclusive to public gardens, but it should be noted that many public gardens in the United States were founded by white people and many are primarily staffed by white people, despite being located in communities of color. Like many of my friends and colleagues in other industries, I was often asked to be the representative for all people of color when discussing inclusion, diversity, equity, and access (a set of issues often known as IDEA). Being the 'only' in a room was disconcerting, but it also gave me access and opportunity to speak on important matters and empowered me to do my own self-reflection, do my own research, and do my best to connect and engage with as many communities as possible.\nOver my years working in gardens, I found myself having conversations with employees at other botanic gardens and arboreta who also served communities not reflected in their boards, staff, and volunteers. I may have been an 'only' in my workspace, but I was far from alone to bring forward the need for change. The American Public Gardens Association (APGA) also had conversations with its members and took the call to action to begin a more authentic discussion about the bias, barriers, and baggage in our industry. APGA is the leading professional organization for the field of public horticulture. Members include more than ten thousand individuals at over six hundred institutions, in all fifty states, the District of Columbia, Canada, and twenty other countries. The organization's primary goals are to encourage best practices, offer educational opportunities, and advocate for members, so this dialogue was a crucial step toward action for public gardens as a whole.\nIn 2016, a group of eleven truth-seekers scheduled a phone meeting to talk about diversity and inclusion. This group wasn't appointed, but we were individuals who had asked questions or nudged the association to 'do something.' We represented generational, ethnic, gender, racial, and sexual-orientation diversity and worked in gardens throughout the United States. Only a handful held a high-level leadership position in their respective gardens. This inaugural group spent the first twenty minutes dissecting the definition of diversity. Through that process of discovery, we unearthed the varying degrees of knowledge, the chasm of feelings and opinions, and a quick understanding of just how different we all felt on how to move forward. While at times uncomfortable, we realized that within that uncomfortable space, we could reflect on our own bias. Thus began a year-long exploration of reading diversity articles, untangling historical perspectives steeped in garden history, and having informal chats about our own experiences while serving public gardens. The work was difficult and sometimes frustrating, without a guidebook of boxes to check.\nIt is important to note that regardless of where gardens and their staff stand in their work towards inclusion and diversity, everyone must start by addressing what they do not know. Starting with a garden's history, for example, gardens should bring to light what the land was before, and who lived on it and cared for it. One resource that is especially helpful when exploring this issue is a book, edited by Duane Blue Spruce and Tanya Thrasher, titled The Land Has Memory: Indigenous Knowledge, Native Landscapes, and the National Museum of the American Indian. It speaks to the rich history and contribution of indigenous people to the land in the Americas and is a thoughtful representation of how traditional Indigenous ways should be put into practice by cultural institutions.\nIncreasing individual knowledge in these and other areas is crucial. This work helps combat the collective unawareness that exists when members of a group believe that others in their group hold comparably more or less extreme attitudes, beliefs, or behaviors. The term 'unawareness' is not meant to disparage the work currently happening in gardens but is a reminder that the work needs to start with recognizing that the struggles of communities of color are not new. Allies must take advantage of resources that include research reports, academic studies, and courageous conversations that bring to light past disparities.\nAfter a year of self and group discovery, the IDEA committee made plans to involve the membership at the APGA conference held in Hamilton, Ontario. Our inaugural session was scheduled for eight in the morning on Saturday, a tough time slot since it was the last day of a week-long conference and the morning after the traditional evening farewell celebration. We were nervous and truly had no idea how our stories and messages would be received. The agenda was informal: committee members had decided to simply introduce the topic of diversity and share personal experiences. With a mere five minutes before the session started, we had to request more chairs the room was already packed. What happened next showed us that public gardens were ready and eager for change.\nIn that crowded room, we had executive directors of large gardens, first-time attendees, educators, gardeners, and outreach coordinators who worked directly in their local communities. We listened, shared personal vulnerabilities, and publicly accepted a challenge to move forward in the work. Many conversations continued in the corridor after the session. We were all so excited, but we all had the question: What in the world needed to happen next?\nInclusion and diversity work is often slower than people might hope for. It takes time to develop authentic relationships, actively listen, and recognize that every public garden has different obstacles to overcome. It also takes time to build trust. Patrick Lencioni, author of Five Dysfunctions of a Team, writes about this, describing team-building steps that also work when creating a more inclusive environment. The fear of being vulnerable is often a barrier when speaking on matters of race, diversity, and equity, yet showing vulnerability builds trust in conversation and in relationships. Asking questions that allow people of color a safe space to share their experiences of microaggressions, gaslighting, and other forms of bias are first steps toward changes needed in the workspace and the garden.\nA few years ago, I had the opportunity to speak on diversity and inclusion at the Botanic Gardens Conservation International Congress in Warsaw, Poland. During the open time for questions, one attendee expressed his concern when broaching a conversation about race with someone in the workplace. This person was afraid of using the wrong words, saying the wrong thing, or inadvertently offending a colleague. We discussed the need to acknowledge your own bias and privilege, but then I ended by stating that you just need to 'step in it.' Not my most eloquent moment, especially since I was attempting to encourage this person to step bravely toward having the conversation rather than becoming immobilized and missing an opportunity to have an authentic exchange. Yet that became my tagline and the start of many meaningful conversations for the duration of the conference. This work is messy, imperfect, wonderful, and needed.\nMany public garden leaders have embraced this need for diversity and inclusion and entered into the work with vulnerability and passion. Brian Vogt has built a framework that infuses IDEA throughout every aspect of Denver Botanic Garden's operation, where he is the chief executive officer. For over ten years, the garden has devoted themselves to IDEA principles with board and staff committees, as well as extensive relationship development resulting in eighty partner organizations. When describing their approach at the garden, Vogt notes how they 'emphasize the power, not the pain, of IDEA work.' Today, their visitors reflect the diversity of their community as does the board itself, which is now 40 percent non-white. These changes have resulted in programming that lifts up diverse voices, exhibits, and communications.\u00caVogt further emphasizes, 'Don't get distracted authentic diversity and inclusion work makes\u00caeverything\u00cabetter.'\nOther gardens initially take an external approach and achieve sustainable results. Bruce Harkey, the president and chief executive officer of Franklin Park Conservatory and Botanical Gardens in Columbus, Ohio, led an effort to improve the quality of life in the community by creating neighborhood-based outreach and educational programming. One recent example is the conservatory's participation in the HeART of the Protest, where the King Arts Complex produced forty-six days of artistic projects to honor the forty-six years of George Floyd's life. Franklin Park Conservatory hosted performances by dancer Candice Igeleke and musician K. Daniel. These events presented new work that focused on telling the story of Black Americans, from slavery to present day. Franklin Park recently added an internal focus: the board, leadership team, and staff work in unison to honestly assess their diversity, equity, and inclusion status. They then set goals and objectives for measurable improvements.\nThese and countless other examples show that our gardens are embracing change. After APGA's initial group session in Hamilton, members expressed a growing interest to hear and do more when it came to IDEA principles and practices. The following year, in 2018, when the IDEA committee presented at the Southern California conference in a capacity-filled ballroom, it became apparent we were more than ready to make inclusion a collective goal. The next year, in Washington, DC, the entire conference theme was Diversity. This resulted in a week-long conference filled with panel discussions, lectures, and facilitated sessions surrounding topics about diversity, equity, accessibility, and inclusion in our gardens and beyond.\nOne key moment happened during our very first IDEA Caf\u017d, a keynote luncheon where a group of esteemed panelists talked about their own experiences in public gardens. One of the panelists was in a wheelchair and needed to use the elevator to get backstage. With mere moments before the group was to take center stage in front of an audience of hundreds, the hotel manager received a radio call that the elevator was stuck with our panelist inside! The situation was rectified but we decided to use what happened as a teaching moment. This was an example of how accessibility issues are always present and can impact a person's experience in significant ways. These shared experiences and conversations inspired us to build systems and best practices for the APGA sustainability index, gather feedback and success stories from gardens, and provide encouragement for those gardens who are just beginning to address these issues.\nI smile recalling Brian Vogt's charge to 'embrace the work of diversity and inclusion joyfully.' It is good advice. While our work with inclusion will never be done, the past two years have taught us that collective resilience and embracing change will sustain us along this journey. As I think about the diversity of plants in my garden, which experience stress and environmental adversity year after year, I'm amazed by how they somehow adapt and persevere through it all. They are resilient, and so are we."},{"has_event_date":0,"type":"arnoldia","title":"Balling and Burlapping","article_sequence":13,"start_page":64,"end_page":64,"url":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/\/action\/directLinkImage?assetId=25766","featured_photo":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/servlet\/display?file=b34509f9d4e0d14ea326.jpg","volume":79,"issue_number":"1","year":2022,"series":null,"season":null,"authors":"Copeland, Chris","article_content":"Transplanting is a delicate process that ideally occurs during dormancy, at the beginning or end of the growing season. In the Arnold Arboretum's nurseries, we use traditional methods to ball and burlap our field-grown trees. To preserve the proper ratio between roots and shoots, we measure the diameter of the trunk: for every inch, we need a minimum root-ball diameter of fifteen inches. Because we cannot input every factor into an equation, we also exercise judgment, accounting for the tree's height and the anatomy of its root system.\nOnce we have determined the diameter, we sever the roots with a sharp spade and excavate a trench. The root ball should be deep enough to ensure that taproots are retained at least 65 percent the diameter. We shave away excess soil to minimize transport weight. The exposed root ball is wrapped with burlap and secured with sisal, using a drum-lacing pattern. We carefully rock the tree, freeing it from the soil below. At this point, the tree is ready to go."},{"arnoldia_cover":true,"has_event_date":0,"type":"arnoldia","url":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/\/action\/directLinkImage?assetId=25759","featured_photo":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/servlet\/display?file=b34509f9d4e0d170b726.jpg","title":"2022-79-1","volume":79,"issue_number":"1","year":2022,"series":null,"season":null},{"has_event_date":0,"type":"arnoldia","title":"Arnoldia Reimagined","article_sequence":1,"start_page":2,"end_page":5,"url":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/\/action\/directLinkImage?assetId=25736","featured_photo":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/servlet\/display?file=b34509f9d4e0d25e856a.jpg","volume":78,"issue_number":"5-6","year":2021,"series":null,"season":null,"authors":"Damery, Jonathan","article_content":"This issue of Arnoldia is devoted primarily to the world of nineteenthcentury horticulture and botany, the milieu that shaped the Arnold Arboretum upon its founding in 1872. Yet, in some sense, the issue also represents the culmination of a twentieth-century vision for the magazine itself. Next year, as part of the Arnold Arboretum's sesquicentennial celebration, Arnoldia will relaunch with a structure and approach that is dynamic and distinctly modern. The magazine will still appear in print every quarter and serve as a definitive source for novel and interdisciplinary research on trees, shrubs, and landscapes. Yet, an updated format will allow for new points of access\u2014new kinds of content. In the context of modern publishing, the production of a magazine like Gardener's Monthly, which began in Philadelphia in 1859, seems almost inconceivable. Its editor, Thomas Meehan, would have exchanged feedback with authors on handwritten manuscripts. That much can be expected. More miraculous was the printing. The final manuscript would have been typeset by hand, each page composed of thousands of individual lead characters. Once a page was complete, a proofreader would review a test copy, marking errors as an assistant read the original manuscript aloud. According to a detailed account of the process for producing Harper's Magazine, outlined in 1865, the initial proofs were often rife with errors. After all, the compositor prepared everything backward, in the inverse of the printed page. After corrections and additional proofing, the process would continue to the individuals responsible for operating the presses, folding machines, and so on\u2014an elaborate, labor-intensive coordination of both mechanical and human power.1 The Arnold Arboretum's first foray into magazine publishing was a monthly titled Garden and Forest. It debuted in 1888, weeks after Gardener's Monthly ended. Charles Sprague Sargent, the first director of the Arboretum, oversaw the magazine for its ten-year run, but the editorial offices were in New York, a few blocks from the printer: Harpers and Brothers. (Harper's Magazine was produced in the same building.) Arnoldia was born as The Bulletin of Popular Information in 1911, and for the next fifty-nine years, the periodical was typeset by hand, using the same basic method employed for Gardener's Monthly. The final person to perform the tedium of creating Arnoldia word by word, line by line was Howard Allgaier, the printer for the Harvard University Botanical Museum. Allgaier began producing the publication in 1933, at the behest of Oakes Ames, the supervisor of the Arnold Arboretum. Ames, a bibliophile, was known to say that \"a botanist's research should be a jewel worthy of a proper setting.\"2 Ames also widened the purview of the Bulletin. For its first two decades, the periodical had focused almost entirely on plants growing at the Arnold Arboretum, but in 1931, the format shifted to standalone, topical articles. Ames wrote several of these, including one on the botanical drawings of John Singer Sargent. Arnoldia Reimagined Jonathan Damery Facing page: In the early 1930s, when Arnoldia was still known as The Bulletin of Popular Information, an interdisciplinary spirit emerged that continues to inspire the magazine today. Blanche Ames provided its first contemporary illustrations. ARCHIVES OF THE ARNOLD ARBORETUM His wife, Blanche Ames, began supplying botanical artwork of her own. The following year, their son coauthored an article about searching for beach plums (Prunus maritima) from an airplane. Authors would follow their wide-ranging lead. The name of the publication changed to Arnoldia in 1941, but otherwise, the structure and general approach remained the same. In 1970, Arnoldia relaunched under the production of a new printer, the Harvard University Printing Office. At least through the end of the decade, Arnoldia was produced on \"hot type\" machines, which meant that the words were input on a keyboard and cast from lead on the spot.3 This mechanical process had emerged almost a century before, but perhaps owing to the relatively simple one-article format of Arnoldia, it had remained feasible for Allgaier to continue setting the type by hand. The change in printers coincided with a dramatic reimagining of Arnoldia\u2014a project overseen by Stephanne Sutton, who took over the publication upon the retirement of Donald Wyman, the editor for twenty-nine years.4 The 1970 redesign was more than a visual makeover; it also brought new storytelling approaches. The 1960s is often considered an era of innovation in magazine publishing. Large general-interest magazines experienced circulation declines, attributed to the rise of television. (For instance, Life, which once claimed to reach the hands of one in four American adults, ceased publication in 1972.) At the same time, special-interest magazines began to proliferate.5 The redesign of In 1970, Arnoldia was reimagined as a special-interest magazine with multiple features per issue. The current logotype of Arnoldia debuted at the end of 1982. ARCHIVES OF THE ARNOLD ARBORETUM Arnoldia 5 Arnoldia firmly repositioned the magazine within this new publishing context. While Arnoldia had long hosted a diverse mix of subjects, authored mainly by horticultural professionals, it would thereafter contain multiple articles per issue and showcase a glossy image on the cover. Over the next five decades, Arnoldia went through several visual updates. Among those milestones: the current logotype and dimensions debuted in 1982, and the first color photographs appeared on the interior pages in 2001. Behind the scenes, the modes of production changed dramatically, but our graphic designer, Andrew Winther, skillfully maintained the visual continuity. He began working on the magazine in 1986, while in the art department at the Office of the University Publisher. At that point, the office used offset lithography, and the printing plates were created from photographic negatives of the text and images. By the early 1990s, Winther began designing the layouts on a computer, and ultimately, every aspect of prepress production has gone digital as well. Despite these changes, the basic architecture introduced in 1970 has endured, with each issue composed primarily of several long-form features. In 2022, when the redesigned Arnoldia launches, the feature articles that have long defined Arnoldia will remain central to each issue. But in the opening pages, we will provide a new, distinctive space for shorter narratives that capture behind-thescenes experiences of working with plants in the twenty-first century. We're also adding space for letters, to foster a public dialogue with you, our readers. In the back, we're creating a department composed of essays and opinions. We'll also incorporate contemporary artwork throughout the magazine, building on the legacy established by Blanche Ames ninety years ago. With the first issue of Garden and Forest, published on February 29, 1888, Sargent and the other creators described their commitment to sharing \"noteworthy discoveries\" in the realm of science and horticultural practice. They promised that the magazine would \"place scientific information clearly and simply before the public, and make available for the instruction of all persons interested in garden plants the conclusions reached by the most trustworthy investigators.\" Articles would cover landscape gardening, forest conservation, entomology, and more. The authors would deal both in history and news. Here, looking into 2022, we're doubling down on these longstanding commitments. Expect the first issue to arrive in March 2022. Notes 1 Guernsey, A. H. 1865, December. Making the magazine. Harper's New Monthly Magazine, 32(187): 1-31. 2 Allgaier, H. J. 1984. The printing shop. Botanical Museum Leaflets, Harvard University, 30(1): 48-50. 3 Ashton, P. S. 1980. The director's report: The Arnold Arboretum during the fiscal year ended June 30, 1980. Arnoldia, 40(6): 238-293. 4 Howard, R. A. 1970. The director's report: The Arnold Arboretum during the fiscal year ended June 30, 1970. Arnoldia, 30(6), 201-250. 5 Abrahamson, D. and Polsgrove, C. 2009. The right niche: Consumer magazines and advertisers. In D. P. Nord, J. S. Rubin, & M. Schudson (Eds.), A history of the book in America: Volume 5: The enduring book, print culture in postwar America (pp. 107-118). University of North Carolina Press. Jonathan Damery is the editor of Arnoldia."},{"has_event_date":0,"type":"arnoldia","title":"The Trees of the Silent Dell","article_sequence":2,"start_page":6,"end_page":7,"url":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/\/action\/directLinkImage?assetId=25737","featured_photo":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/servlet\/display?file=b34509f9d4e0d25e896d.jpg","volume":78,"issue_number":"5-6","year":2021,"series":null,"season":null,"authors":"Barnett, David","article_content":"A cemetery, by nature, is a place where the past is always present. On September 1, 2021, I retired from Mount Auburn Cemetery in Cambridge, Massachusetts, on the twenty-eighth anniversary of the day I started employment there. I had arrived in 1993 as the director of horticulture, having a background in public garden management and degrees in horticulture and ecology. At first, I only noticed the natural landscape and the spectacular collection of trees. Mount Auburn, after all, occupies a unique space in the history of American landscape design: It served as inspiration for other pastoral cemeteries in the mid-nineteenth century and, subsequently, for urban green spaces like Central Park and the Emerald Necklace. I didn't initially focus on the monuments and the other \"cemetery\" aspects of Mount Auburn. About two years after my arrival, I gave a tour of Mount Auburn to Richard Harris, my major professor from graduate school at the University of California, Davis, who had authored a textbook on arboriculture. We stopped in Consecration Dell, a natural amphitheater in the center of the cemetery, where paths on the shaded slopes overlook a small pond. I explained that we had just initiated a project to restore this area to the woodland habitat that existed when the cemetery was founded in 1831. In fact, Mount Auburn's first president, Joseph Story, delivered his consecration address in this very location, noting the importance of natural beauty when mourning loved ones. \"What spot,\" he asked, \"can be more appropriate than this, for such a purpose.\" I described how the restoration would require a phased approach to remove all exotic plants, especially invasive species such as Norway maple (Acer platanoides), and replace them entirely with native species of trees, shrubs, and woodland groundcovers. I felt proud to describe to my mentor how the restoration plan would allow me to put into practice ecological management concepts that I had studied in graduate school. We happened to be standing next to a spectacular Japanese stewartia (Stewartia pseudocamellia) planted in 1939. I noted that we would not remove the stewartia just because it was an introduced species, but that, when the stewartia eventually died, we would replace it with a native. I also pointed out that the stewartia had a memorial plaque on it with the name and birth and death dates of a woman who had recently passed away. As we talked, a woman who had been walking nearby came up to introduce herself. She was the daughter of the woman memorialized on the tree plaque. She told me that the family had chosen to purchase the plaque because Consecration Dell was one of her mother's favorite spots. The woman said she visited frequently to think about her mother and thanked me for making Mount Auburn\u2014and Consecration Dell itself\u2014such a beautiful, uplifting, and inspirational place. From that day forward, my relationship with the landscape changed. Talking to the woman beneath the stewartia, I came to understand the significance of Mount Auburn as a cemetery and the importance of serving our \"clients\" with compassion and sensitivity. The entire staff understands this\u2014it is embedded in our culture. My colleagues have all had interactions with visiting family members similar to the one I experienced that day. These encounters motivate us to continue achieving the high standards of maintenance of the grounds\u2014from the trees and gardens to the monuments and other built structures\u2014in order to ensure that Mount Auburn Cemetery remains the beautiful and inspirational place that Joseph Story and the rest of our founders envisioned in 1831. The successful restoration of the native woodland in Consecration Dell over the twenty-five years since that memorable conversation has been one of the highlights of my career. In place The Trees of the Silent Dell David Barnett Consecration Dell represents a nearly two-hundred-year-old vision for the naturalistic landscape at Mount Auburn Cemetery. PHOTO BY THE AUTHOR; MAP FROM HARVARD MAP COLLECTION, HARVARD UNIVERSITY of the Norway maples and other invasive species that we removed, hundreds of native trees and shrubs and thousands of ferns and woodland groundcovers now provide a valuable habitat for the birds, salamanders, and other wildlife residents of Mount Auburn. And yes, the magnificent stewartia remains as well. I like to think that the landscape looks just like \"the hill and the valley, the still, silent dell, and the deep forest\" that Joseph Story described so long ago. David Barnett was appointed president and CEO of Mount Auburn Cemetery in 2008. He retired from that position in 2021 confident that the course has been charted for a bright and successful future as an active cemetery, a historically significant cultural landscape, and a model of environmental stewardship."},{"has_event_date":0,"type":"arnoldia","title":"The Nauvoo Rose on Temple Square","article_sequence":3,"start_page":8,"end_page":9,"url":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/\/action\/directLinkImage?assetId=25738","featured_photo":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/servlet\/display?file=b34509f9d4e0d160a325.jpg","volume":78,"issue_number":"5-6","year":2021,"series":null,"season":null,"authors":"Henrichsen, Esther Truitt","article_content":"\"She brought it from Nauvoo, Illinois, to Salt Lake City in a teapot,\" my boss, Peter Lassig, told me. It was the spring of 1980, and we were standing in a quiet corner of Temple Square, in the heart of Salt Lake City. Before us, a small, unglamorous rose was beginning to produce its small, deep-red flowers. Peter had asked me to transplant it to a historic home garden, two blocks away. The rose was growing within a collection of special plants protected by the warmth and shade of a fifteen-foot wall made of adobe and sandstone that surrounds the square. Peter explained that the rose came from a woman named Elizabeth Hubble. \"She walked the thirteen hundred miles from Nauvoo,\" he said, \"but her rose rode in the wagon and was most likely the only luxury she allowed herself.\" Elizabeth was one of seventy thousand Latter-day Saints who made the trek across the plains along the Mormon Trail from 1847 to 1869 before the railroad connected the West to the rest of the continent. Elizabeth was among those who were expelled from their homes in Nauvoo, a city they had built. She would have had little time to dig the plant from her garden, and she made a real commitment to keep it alive for the rest of her journey. She would have watered it from the Platte River in Nebraska, the Sweetwater River in Wyoming, and Emigration Creek as she traveled down into the Salt Lake Valley. As Peter told me about the storied rose that late spring afternoon, we were standing across from the south door of the Assembly Hall, a beautiful, Victorian Gothic building, completed in 1882, that was about to go through an extensive renovation\u2014the reason it was necessary to move the rose. Temple Square is the most visited site in Utah, which is impressive for a state boasting five national parks. Its ten acres are dominated by the large, domed Tabernacle and the Salt Lake Temple, divided by the Center Mall. With a cathedral of fabulous American and European elms (Ulmus americana and U. laevis) overhead, Temple Square has served as one of the great urban spaces in the United States for well over a hundred years. The perimeter wall was built as fortification when Salt Lake City was still wilderness and now provides a peaceful space amid the noise of growing urbanity. The next morning, I took a shovel and a pot to dig the little Nauvoo rose, becoming one more in a line of gardeners who had cared for the plant and its provenance since Elizabeth's family had given it to Temple Square in the 1880s. Peter had been introduced to the rose in 1953, when he was fifteen, by his boss Irvin Nelson. In turn, Irvin had been charged with caring for it by his predecessor, who had gardened at Temple Square since the late 1800s. This location was the second placement for the rose on Temple Square. I was taking it to its first new home in nearly a hundred years. Towering over the rose were three Japanese tree peonies (Paeonia suffruticosa) that were the most tree-like peonies I have ever seen. They had been a gift in the 1930s from Brown Floral, a family-run nursery that is still part of the horticultural fabric of Salt Lake City. Each plant had at least thirty mauve blooms, and they were dug and moved to the garden south of the Temple. Several other plant treasures in this space would also be transplanted. In the spirit of its century of being a repository of gift plants, this garden between the Assembly Hall and the Temple Square wall was where, six years later, I chose to plant the seven-son flower (Heptacodium miconioides). This plant was sent to subscribers of Arnoldia when the story of this newly introduced species was published in the Fall 1986 issue. That Heptacodium grew into a glorious tree that every few years bloomed at the same moment as the monarch butterfly migration from north to south. You could stroll past the tree and be amazed as hundreds of monarchs were startled into the air. It was cut down a few years ago by a gardener who had no knowledge of its history The Nauvoo Rose on Temple Square Esther Truitt Henrichsen HENRICHSEN, E. T. 2021. THE NAUVOO ROSE ON TEMPLE SQUARE. ARNOLDIA, 78(5-6): 8-9 and was cavalier about not wanting to learn from those who had come before. In the process of digging the rose that morning in May 1980, I was horrified when it split in two. But, this became an opportunity. I carried the little plants across the two blocks to the Beehive House, where I was the summer gardener and weed-puller. I planted them on either side of a path that led to a gate in the cobblestone wall. Brigham Young had built the wall in the 1850s around his two side-by-side homes, the Beehive House and the Lion House. The roses flourished there for two decades, until the cobblestone wall suddenly collapsed, killing one of the pair. The other was moved to another part of the Beehive House garden while the wall was being rebuilt and was never moved back. I was concerned for the future of the Nauvoo rose because it was difficult to find anyone in the next generation who was interested, but I eventually took three cuttings and have grown them in my home garden for the past decade. By the time this map of Salt Lake City was published in 1870, the Nauvoo rose had been growing in the community for two decades. The rose can now be found in the gardens of the historic Beehive House, mapped with a number 5. PHOTO BY THE AUTHOR; MAP FROM LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, GEOGRAPHY AND MAP DIVISION I once keyed out the Nauvoo rose and believe it is a Rosa chinensis 'Minima', a variety (formerly known as Rosa indica minima) introduced into cultivation in the early 1800s. It grows about two feet high and two feet wide, and it blooms from spring to fall. In the intense high-desert sunlight of Utah, it prefers growing in a bit of shade. Compared to other roses, the Nauvoo rose may not seem very glamorous. Elizabeth, however, had the imagination to envision her little plant blooming in her new home in the Great Basin. Her descendants who donated the rose and the line of gardeners who cared for it since have all been connected by the love, care, and determination required to let it grow. Esther Truitt Henrichsen is the garden designer at Thanksgiving Point Institute in Lehi, Utah. Previously, after completing a master's in landscape history, she worked for many years as a landscape designer at Temple Square."},{"has_event_date":0,"type":"arnoldia","title":"Five Generations of Russell's Garden Center","article_sequence":4,"start_page":10,"end_page":12,"url":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/\/action\/directLinkImage?assetId=25739","featured_photo":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/servlet\/display?file=b34509f9d4e0d160a728.jpg","volume":78,"issue_number":"5-6","year":2021,"series":null,"season":null,"authors":"Russell-Skehan, Elizabeth","article_content":"I felt the presence of the large video camera and mic over my right shoulder as I opened the photo album of Russell's Garden Center from the 1980s. \"There's the four of us,\" I said with a smile to my husband, Tim, who sat next to me. I was referring to a photograph of us with my mom and dad, wearing our teal Russell's shirts and sitting in front of our new sign on Route 20. The highway connects Wayland with Boston, about sixteen miles to the east. Our daughter Genevieve, the movie director, encouraged me to continue. \"Pretend there's no camera or mic here, and just tell me about the five generations of Russell's.\" I began my story, explaining how the business was established in 1876. \"My great-grandfather Samuel Lewis Russell was a butcher,\" I said, \"and his original store was called Russell's Provisions.\" He lived at the farm where Russell's is today, but his store was located about half a mile away, at the intersection of Route 20 and Pelham Island Road, in Wayland Center. It stood near a grocery store called the Collins Market, along with the library, post office, and several churches. Everything was within walking distance. \"There were no cars in 1876, for convenience,\" I said. Tim held up a picture of the Russell's Provisions storefront for the camera to capture. We were filming a documentary about our family business, aiming to tell the story of how our 144-year-operation\u2014one of the oldest garden centers in the country\u2014tackled the challenges of the pandemic by changing our business dramatically. For us, the family history was a central motivation for maintaining the garden center through the initial closures in March 2020, when we experienced more than a million dollars in losses. We worried that we might have to close the business altogether. Genevieve asked, \"Was your grandfather a butcher too?\" \"Not at all\" I replied. I explained how my grandfather, Lewis Samuel Russell, was a farmer. Like his father, he grew vegetables and cut flowers on the family farm, and he also raised chickens and sold the eggs. In 1920, he opened Russell's Market in the space where we now sell garden tools\u2014right next to his house. At that point, cars were becoming more common, which meant that my grandfather could close the original location in town. It wasn't just my grandfather running the market, I explained. \"My Grammy, Ruth Russell, would add up customers' purchases on a little pad of paper and collect cash and make change out of her apron pocket.\" Genevieve asked me to pause for a moment and instructed the cameraman to zoom in on my face. She then asked, \"What was it like growing up on a farm?\" I described how I would visit my grandparents almost every day. I would play in the fields with my sisters and cousins, while my grandfather and great uncle worked nearby planting, weeding, and picking crops. At that point, my parents were involved with the business, so we would often stop to see them in the office, before heading to Grammy's yellow house, which still stands along Route 20. She'd give us fresh bread and sweets that she'd cooked on the old black coal stove. In the evenings, when my grandparents babysat for us, we'd watch Lawrence Welk and Carol Burnett on the television as they counted the cash from the day at their kitchen table. Family and business were inseparable. \"They'd hide the cash in an oatmeal box in the cupboard,\" I said. \"Once it was full, my grandma would put it in her bra and ride the bus to deposit it in the bank.\" Tim flipped the page of an album from 1965 to reveal a picture of my dad, Lewis Samuel Russell Jr., watering rows of flowers growing in our greenhouses. The cameraman zoomed in with his lens. My dad joined the business after he returned from the Korean War. By then, a significant part of the business revolved around wholesaling Five Generations of Russell's Garden Center Elizabeth Russell-Skehan Facing page: Russell's Garden Center has been a family-owned fixture in Wayland, Massachusetts, for five generations. PHOTOS COURTESY THE AUTHOR; USGS MAP FROM HARVARD UNIVERSITY, HARVARD MAP COLLECTION RUSSELL-SKEHAN, E. 2021. FIVE GENERATIONS OF RUSSELL'S GARDEN CENTER. ARNOLDIA, 78(5-6): 10-12 cut flowers to florists in the Boston area. My mom, Charlotte, worked as a bookkeeper and also managed the flower deliveries. Twice a week, she would load my sisters and me into the van and deliver flowers. We loved helping her carry the bunches of fresh flowers into the stores. After the energy crisis of the 1970s, we stopped growing cut flowers and closed our greenhouses every winter to conserve heat and save money. With specialization, airplanes and trucks could bring cut flowers from the southern regions of the United States and overseas, so Russell's stopped selling wholesale. My uncle had built several greenhouses, and my dad recommissioned them for growing annuals and vegetables. This transition was the start of the garden center as we know it today\u2014 and was yet another instance of the business evolving in response to changes in the market and technology. \"Because we were located on Route 20, we had plenty of customers driving by to stop in,\" I told the camera. \"We added houseplants, cactus, poinsettias, and potted mums and began selling more Christmas trees, wreaths, and fresh floral arrangements.\" At that point, my dad hired his best friend, Hugh McKenzie, who started the Garden Shop. Hugh added tools, fertilizers, and insecticides, along with garden statuary and supplies for birds. My mom worked long hours, too, and expanded the offerings to include vases, pots, silk flowers, candles, Christmas ornaments, and d\u00e9cor. At noon, Genevieve suggested we take a break. During the interview, her plan for structuring the film had shifted, and she wanted to run the idea past me. \"Mom,\" she said, \"I've decided to start with the history of Russell's before we go into the story of everything you all did to overcome the pandemic.\" I agreed that this was a great idea. We had already decided that the last thirty minutes of our movie would be about the remarkable response from our community once we were able to reopen the business in the spring of 2020, after more than a month of closure. We found that the community embraced gardening with newfound enthusiasm\u2014and in the end, Russell's not only survived 2020 but thrived. With the camera rolling again, Genevieve asked when Tim and I joined the company. Tim told the story of us joining in 1986. \"I'm a recovering mechanical engineer,\" he joked, \"and Elizabeth's expertise is in marketing and advertising. I quickly learned that this was a lot more fun than sitting in an office all day.\" I explained how, at this point, I'm delighted that our son, Dan Skehan, has joined us full time. He is the fifth generation to work at Russell's. With a background in accounting, human resources, and financial management, he was instrumental in helping us figure out how to stay in business through 2020. He secured payroll protection loans and helped us furlough and then rehire and train our employees. Moreover, he kept abreast with ever-changing guidelines from the Center for Disease Control and the State of Massachusetts. \"He remained calm and added a wealth of knowledge,\" I explained. \"I'm not sure we'd still be in business if we didn't know that Dan would be here to continue the legacy of Russell's Garden Center.\" Elizabeth Russell-Skehan is the president and vice president of marketing at Russell's Garden Center. They are now editing a full-length feature documentary film called Growing Through Covid- 19. To watch a trailer or to donate to the film, visit www.growingthroughcovid19.com. 12 Arnoldia 78\/5-6 \u2022 October 2021 STATEMENT OF OWNERSHIP, MANAGEMENT, AND CIRCULATION (Required by 39 U.S.C. 3685) 1. Title: Arnoldia. 2. Publication number: 0004-2633. 3. Filing date: September 22, 2021. 4. Frequency: Quarterly. 5. Number of issues published annually: 4. 6. Annual subscription price: $20.00 domestic; $25.00 foreign. 7-8. Address of offices of publication, publisher, and editor: The Arnold Arboretum of Harvard University, 125 Arborway, Boston, Suffolk County, MA 02130-3500. 9. Full names of publisher, editor, and managing editor: The Arnold Arboretum of Harvard University, publisher; Jonathan Damery, editor. 10. Owner: The Arnold Arboretum of Harvard University. 11. Known bondholders, mortgagees, and other security holders owning or holding 1 percent or more of total: None. 12. The purpose, function, and nonprofit status of this organization and the exempt status for federal income tax purposes have not changed during the preceding 12 months. 13. Publication name: Arnoldia. 14. Issue date for circulation data below: June 29, 2019. 15. Extent and nature of circulation. a. Average number copies each issue during preceding 12 months: 1,720. Actual number copies of single issue published nearest to filing date: 1,750. b. Paid and\/or requested circulation: (1) Paid outside-county subscriptions: Average: 28. Actual nearest to filing date: 25. (2) Paid in-county subscriptions. Average: 1,181. Actual nearest to filing date: 1,193. (3) Sales through dealers and carriers, street vendors, and counter sales: None. (4) Other classes mailed through the USPS: None. c. Total paid and\/or requested circulation. Average: 1,209. Actual nearest to filing date: 1,218. d. (1)(2) (3) Free distribution by mail. Average: 191. Actual nearest to filing date: 196. (4) Free distribution outside the mail: Average: 250. Actual nearest to filing date: 250. e. Total free distribution: Average: 441. Actual nearest to filing date: 446. f. Total distribution: Average: 1,650. Actual nearest to filing date: 1,664. g. Copies not distributed. Average: 70. Actual nearest to filing date: 86. h. Total. Average: 1,720. Actual nearest to filing date: 1,750. i. Percent paid and\/or requested circulation. Average: 73%. Actual nearest to filing date: 73%. I certify that all information furnished on this form is true and complete. Jonathan Damery, Editor."},{"has_event_date":0,"type":"arnoldia","title":"The Resilient Trees of Flower City","article_sequence":5,"start_page":13,"end_page":15,"url":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/\/action\/directLinkImage?assetId=25740","featured_photo":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/servlet\/display?file=b34509f9d4e0d160a76c.jpg","volume":78,"issue_number":"5-6","year":2021,"series":null,"season":null,"authors":"Quinn, Mark","article_content":"On March 4, 1991, I awoke to a knocking on my door. A coworker from the Monroe County Parks Department in Rochester, New York, planned to pick me up early to go to a trade show in Syracuse. When I glanced at the clock, however, I realized the power was out. The clockface was blank. I dressed quickly in the dark, and when I stepped out the front door, I found that the day's agenda was completely different than planned. My coworker had indeed arrived to pick me up, but looking down the street, I saw that ice covered everything. My twenty-five-foot-tall white birch (Betula papyrifera) was bent over, with the tip touching the ground. (This tree later sprang back, showing the amazing resilience of trees to crises.) We headed for Highland Park, the historic arboretum on the south side of Rochester, where we both worked as horticulturists. After multiple turnarounds due to trees blocking the road, we finally arrived at the Highland Park production greenhouses. The scene that met us was shocking. A huge limb from a one-hundred-year-old European beech (Fagus sylvatica) had fallen on our turn-of-the-century glass greenhouse. Like most of the largest trees in the park, this beech dated to the early 1890s and was planted by horticulturist John Dunbar according to plans drafted by Frederick Law Olmsted. We immediately set to work removing the limb and closing the hole in the damaged greenhouse, stapling poly film to the cypress bars in an attempt to save the delicate orchids inside. As we worked to keep the plants from freezing, we could hear the occasional snap of limbs breaking elsewhere in the park, but we still had not fully comprehended the scale of devastation around us. Rochester has a special affinity for trees. In the early 1800s, it was dubbed the Flour City, as waterpower of the Genesee River was used to grind enormous amounts of flour that was then shipped via the Erie Canal. By the second half of the century, however, Rochester became the Flower City, home to many of the country's largest and most prosperous nurseries. Two nurserymen played an especially pivotal role: George Ellwanger and Patrick Barry, owners of the successful Mount Hope Nursery, which they established around 1840. In 1888, Ellwanger and Barry donated land from their nursery grounds to the city to be used as a public park. Later named Highland Park, this land occupied a highpoint overlooking the city and the southern tier hills. Olmsted was enlisted to design a system of parks for Rochester, including North Park (now Seneca Park) and South Park (now Genesee Valley Park). Considering the interest that local nursery owners had invested in tree cultivation, Olmsted designed Highland Park as an arboretum. Many of the specimens to be planted were donated by Ellwanger and Barry. Park Superintendent Calvin Laney began acquiring additional plants for the park, but it soon became clear that more horticultural help was required. Dunbar was hired in 1891 to oversee the plant collections in the park. He quickly forged relationships with other prominent horticulturists, including Charles Sprague Sargent of the Arnold Arboretum. The similarities between Highland and the Arnold are not just superficial. Both arboreta were designed by Olmsted and were envisioned as features within larger park systems. Both have the distinct feel of an Olmsted design, with curving paths following the contours of the landscape. Dunbar and the horticulturists who followed him maintained an active relationship with Sargent and others at the Arnold. For many decades, The Resilient Trees of Flower City Mark Quinn QUINN, M. 2021. THE RESILIENT TREES OF FLOWER CITY. ARNOLDIA, 78(5-6): 13-15 LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, GEOGRAPHY AND MAP DIVISION Highland Park 15 the institutions exchanged plant material, supporting research at both sites. As time passed, the products of these efforts matured into beautiful collections. In Rochester, the public has come to expect these large, well-maintained trees throughout our arboretum and park system. Still, as a community of tree lovers, we often take for granted the tremendous asset left by our predecessors\u2014until crisis strikes. The ice storm of 1991 was one of these events. Having saved the orchids, staff turned their attention to assessing the damage to the arboretum. It seemed that almost everything in the collection was either damaged or destroyed. At first, opening roads and paths so people could get around was the priority. This effort to restore access took days. As the work progressed, we started to look at individual specimens and, to our dismay, found many of our most celebrated trees were no more. One public favorite, a katsura tree (Cercidiphyllum japonicum), looked like the last few feet of every branch was broken and hanging. The tree had been received in 1919 from the nursery of Leon Chenault, in Orleans, France. Once the forestry team addressed safety issues elsewhere in the landscape, they turned to the katsura, spending days expertly trimming off every broken limb. Today, three decades later, no evidence of the trauma remains. The katsura has returned bigger and better than ever. The saddest loss for me was a Persian ironwood (Parrotia persica), which had been received from Veitch Nursery, in England, in 1892. The specimen\u2014perhaps my favorite tree in the park\u2014was fascinating, forming an impenetrable maze of eight- to sixteen-inch trunks with gray-green mottled bark. It had been completely uprooted and was lying on the ground. I remember cutting up the branches and wondering if another specimen as impressive as this one existed anywhere. Yet, sometimes having too much to do can play in our favor: with thousands of trees down and in need of work, our team deferred grinding stumps until later. That spring, dozens of new shoots sprouted from the overturned Parrotia stump. Over time, our team thinned the shoots, allowing space for some to grow. Now thirty years have passed, and the plant is once again a tangle of trunks\u2014 again one of my favorites. While so many trees were damaged and lost, others weathered the storm with remarkable ease. Walking through the park, you come to an impressive pair of zelkovas (Zelkova serrata), found in the valley behind the historic Lamberton Conservatory. One of the trees was received in 1899 from Thomas Meehan & Sons, in Germantown, Pennsylvania, and the other arrived in 1919 from the Arnold Arboretum. These trees stood strong against the ice. Likewise, at the corner of Highland Avenue and Goodman Street, a dawn redwood (Metasequoia glyptostroboides) did the same. The tree was grown from seed distributed by the Arnold Arboretum in 1948, when this newly identified species was first introduced to North America. The dawn redwood flexed under the weight of the ice but bounced back with little damage. Despite the losses to the ice storm, Highland Park recovered. Every morning, I drive through the pinetum, which includes hundreds of varieties of mature evergreens\u2014an uncommon and, I think, underappreciated asset for a city park. The pinetum is particularly impressive in the winter with snow on the trees, giving the impression of being in an evergreen forest far north of Rochester. As I pull into my parking spot, I glance to a nearby hill where I see two magnificent fernleaf beech trees (Fagus sylvatica 'Asplenifolia') standing amongst a grouping of beech trees of other varieties. These two were donated from Ellwanger and Barry's Mount Hope Nursery in 1892. Looking to the left, I can see an American chestnut (Castanea dentata), about thirty feet tall and starting to succumb to blight, a remnant of a former crisis. Each of the trees stands as a living history\u2014a testament not only to their own resilience but to the commitment of the generations of horticulturists who have built and stewarded the plant collections in Flower City. Mark Quinn is the superintendent of horticulture for Monroe County Parks, in Rochester, New York. He oversees the cultivation and care of the botanical collection at Highland Park and all the parks throughout the County Parks System. Facing page: The author stands with one of the celebrated trees at Highland Park\u2014a katsura tree (Cercidiphyllum japonicum) received in 1919. PHOTO COURTESY THE AUTHOR"},{"has_event_date":0,"type":"arnoldia","title":"The Prince Family: Pioneers of American Horticulture","article_sequence":6,"start_page":16,"end_page":23,"url":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/\/action\/directLinkImage?assetId=25741","featured_photo":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/servlet\/display?file=b34509f9d4e0d160ab6f.jpg","volume":78,"issue_number":"5-6","year":2021,"series":null,"season":null,"authors":"Casscles, J. Stephen","article_content":"It was a beautiful day on August 1, 1782, when Prince William Henry, the third son of King George III, was received at the home and gardens of William Prince Sr. in Flushing Landing, New York. The American Revolutionary War had effectively ended the year before when the British surrendered at the Battle of Yorktown. Yet, the sixteen-year-old visitor, who would, in 1830, rise to the throne as King William IV, had come to present a stand of colors to the King's American Dragoons, encamped three miles to the east of the Princes. The British soldiers were invited for a barbecue of a whole roasted ox at the Prince home, not the kind of warm reception that an American patriot would have given to a future British monarch and his troops. Prince was a nursery owner, almost forty years older than William, and the visit suggests the prominence of both Prince and the nursery. During the visit, Prince and William discussed their shared interest in growing and breeding plums, a specialty of the nursery. Plums were a critical fruit crop because they could be dried and stored for long periods and used as a nutritious food by the British Navy. Prince had introduced new plum varieties to Long Island, observing the acclimatization of the green gage plum (a common form of Prunus domestica). He even developed new varieties of plums, including 'Yellow Gage', which he would officially introduce the year after William's visit. In 1789, another group of illustrious visitors stopped at Prince's nursery: the newly elected president of the United States, George Washington, and his entourage of vice president John Adams, New York governor George Clinton, and the president of the Continental Congress, John Jay. Washington was less impressed with the nursery than William had been. He noted a large number of young fruit trees but described the shrubs as \"trifling\" and the flowers as \"not numerous.\" Flushing had been under British military occupation for the past seven years, and little plant material could be shipped during those long years of hostility. Nonetheless, by the 1790s, the Prince Nursery was likely the largest propagator of grafted fruit trees in the United States. It would grow to become even more: a center of horticultural learning. The Prince family's horticultural enterprise originated with William Prince's father, Robert, who was born in the 1690s. (His birth year has been variously presented as 1692 and 1699.) By 1723, Robert had begun collecting, growing, and propagating trees for his fruit farm. The plants included varieties of apples, pears, plums, nectarines, peaches, cherries, and small fruits. Throughout Robert's life, the nursery slowly evolved into a vibrant commercial operation, occupying eight acres directly south of what is now Northern Boulevard. This first Prince homestead was a beautiful structure with rounded shingles, set in a bank of flowering shrubs on the western edge of his property, next to the Flushing Creek. Flushing\u2014in northern Queens County\u2014was an ideal location for a nursery that would grow to become national in scope. It sits on the Long Island Sound, where winters are milder than most other parts of the state and where summers are cooler and less humid than colonial centers to the south. Flushing boasted high-quality topsoil, rich and fertile, with few stones. An underlying subsoil provided good water drainage while retaining sufficient moisture to allow plants to grow quickly. Flushing's location relative to the Port of New York meant that plants could readily be shipped to other parts of the country and Europe. Moreover, Flushing benefited from the cultural and financial rise of New York City. These factors would, in the nineteenth century, induce many other prominent nurseries to establish operations in Flushing. Robert and his wife, Mary Burgess, had six children. Their oldest son, William, took over the nursery by 1745, the year before Robert's death. Under William's leadership, the nursery ultimately expanded to twenty-four acres. The diversity of plants increased, as did the total sales. At the time, the standard American practice for propagating fruit trees, especially peaches (Prunus persica), was to grow seedlings and not to graft a tree to a suitable rootstock. Because of this seed-grown method, the quality of orchard trees was unknown until they came to maturity. Prince realized the commercial value of predictability and often budded or grafted his fruit trees to keep the variety true. The nursery expanded quickly between 1750 and the beginning of the American Revolutionary War in 1776. William published his firstknown notice of advertisement on September 21, 1767, which stated, \"For sale at William Prince's nursery, Flushing, a great variety of fruit trees, such as apple, plum, peach, nectarine, cherry, apricot and pear. They may be put up so as to be sent to Europe. Capt. Jeremiah Mitchell and Daniel Clements go to New York in passage boats Tuesdays and Fridays.\" The nursery's first-known catalogue appeared in 1771, a single-page broadsheet. The list contained over 230 plant selections, which was sizable for a nursery in colonial America. In addition to fruit crops, the offerings included evergreen trees, timber trees, and shrubs. Among the ornamental selections, tulip trees (Liriodendron tulipifera) and lilacs (three varieties, presumably Syringa vulgaris) were among the most expensive. An advertisement published in the New York Mercury, dated March 14, 1774, stated that William Prince was selling more than one hundred Carolina magnolias (Magnolia grandiflora) that were over four feet tall, raised from seed. He also advertised ninefoot- tall catalpas (Catalpa speciosa). The Revolutionary War halted the shipment of Prince's plants to most parts of the American colonies, except for areas under British control, such as Manhattan, Brooklyn, Long Island, and parts of the South. These wartime closures hurt the business. Reports variously state that somewhere between three thousand to thirty thousand grafted cherry trees were either purchased or confiscated by the British, to be used as hoops for making barrels. Yet, the Princes were likely British Loyalists and benefited from military protection. In fact, William's daughter Sarah married a British Army Major, Charles McNeill, who resigned from his military service after the war. And the British General Lord Howe ordered army units to guard the nursery, posting soldiers at the entrances. When George Washington visited the Princes with his entourage in 1789, his assessment of the poor quality and low diversity of the ornamental plants may suggest that nursery was still recovering from the war. Yet, by the summer of 1791, secretary of state Thomas Jefferson and his fellow Democratic-Republican James Madison of Virginia visited the nursery and reported more favorably. The men were touring New York and New England to study botanical curiosities, wildlife, and historic battlefields. They maintained that the tour was for health reasons and scientific exploration. Yet, those versed in politics noted that the trip was conducted through the country's Federalists strongholds of New York and New England instead of areas dominated by Jefferson's political base of Democratic-Republican support. Jefferson desired to improve domestic agriculture and arranged the nursery stop to discuss his ideas with William. Among the topics, they talked about Jefferson's vision for promoting the cultivation of sugar maples (Acer saccharum) for syrup production. Jefferson also took the opportunity to order plants for himself: sugar maples, highbush cranberries (Viburnum trilobum), balsam poplars (Populus balsamifera), and Beurre Gris pears (a variety of Pyrus communis). Later, he expanded his order to include stone fruits and nut trees, along with an array of ornamental trees, shrubs, and roses. As the United States grew towards the close of the century, so did the Prince Nursery. By 1793, William Prince, at the age of sixty-eight, turned over operations to his sons Benjamin and William Jr. Benjamin maintained the original family nursery for many years, calling it the Old American Nursery, but it was William Jr. who became the primary mover of the family business in the third generation. In 1793, he purchased twenty-four acres directly northeast of the original nursery. There, on the banks of \u222b Flushing Creek, he established his Linnaean Botanic Garden and Nursery. He designed it as a showplace to educate the public on botanical matters, including native plants, new varieties bred in the United States, and plants imported from Europe and farther afield. William Jr. and his son William Robert Prince took up the cause of identifying and describing plant material so that it could be offered to the public\u2014and they were highly invested in acquiring newly introduced species. In 1804, for instance, Meriwether Lewis and William Clark embarked upon the Missouri River to explore the recently acquired Louisiana Purchase. The expedition had been commissioned at Jefferson's request, and when the explorers returned east, they came bearing seeds and other botanical collections. The Princes were among the first nursery operators to grow and distribute plants from the expedition, and the Oregon grape holly (Mahonia aquifolium) became one of their most successful new products. The Princes were also among the first American nurseries to offer ornamental species from East Asia, like the golden rain tree (Koelreuteria paniculata), lacebark elm (Ulmus parvifolia), and Chinese wisteria (Wisteria sinensis). By the mid-1830s, William Jr. had ten nursery outbuildings, of which several were greenhouses that contained tropical and subtropical plants from Africa and Asia. Visitors could pay an admission fee to experience the warmth and humidity of the greenhouse\u2014a rewarding respite to escape the dark, cold New York winter. The nursery catalogue listed ten tropical hibiscuses (Hibiscus) and two gardenias (Gardenia) that bloomed in their greenhouses. Prince grew tropical fruits and flowers specifically for winter viewing. For variety, they also exhibited insectivorous plants such as sundew (Drosera), pitcher plant (Sarracenia), and Venus flytrap (Dionaea). Moreover, in 1833, The New-York Annual Register reported that the gardens and nursery covered up to forty In 1793, William Prince Jr. purchased twenty-four acres alongside the original nursery, naming the new property the Linnaean Botanic Garden and Nursery. In the decades to come, a cohort of nurseries would open in Flushing, including Parsons Nursery and Bloodgood Nursery, both mapped nearby in 1841. SMITH, 1841\/LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, GEOGRAPHY AND MAP DIVISION ies cultivated in America, other than apples. (While the father and son intended to treat apple cultivation with a third volume, the work was never published.) Like A Short Treatise on Horticulture, this book was widely read in America and became influential among aspiring horticulturalists. Moreover, the Princes paid particular attention to the nomenclature of the fruits covered in all of the publications, untangling confusion occurring in the field. This interest in the accurate classification of horticultural plants began with the work of William Sr., and it was among the family's most significant contributions to American horticulture. As a testament to William Jr.'s interest in classification, he displayed in his home a bust of Carl Linnaeus, the Swedish botanist who formalized the modern system of botanical nomenclature. William Jr. received the statue in a presentation by New York governor DeWitt Clinton at a meeting of European and American scientists to honor Linnaeus's birthday in 1823. A simultaneous celebration in Virginia was officiated by Thomas Jefferson, an honorary member of the Linnaean Society of Paris. By the time William Jr. died in 1842, Flushing had become a vibrant center for American horticulture. Bloodgood Nursery had been established there in 1798 and would become known as a specialist in maples. (A common Japanese maple even bears the name of the nursery: Acer palmatum 'Bloodgood'.) G. R. Garretson Nursery, a seed company specializing in flowers and vegetables, was established in 1836 and would grow to cover one hundred acres, supplying wholesale seeds to nurseries across the United States and offering retail via mail order. But the most famous of these newer operations was Parsons Nursery, established in 1838; the Parsons family would later play a central role in introducing plants from East Asia, especially Japan. Meanwhile, William Robert had been assuming increasing responsibility for the Linnaean Botanic Garden and Nurseries. In the 1820s, he expanded the nursery, purchasing three large parcels so that his land holdings may have totaled up to 113 acres. These properties were located adjacent to a house he bought for himself in 1827. The home had a wide center hall, \u222b 20 Arnoldia 78\/5-6 \u2022 October 2021 acres and contained approximately ten thousand species of trees and plants, with particular attention devoted to grapes and mulberry trees. Visitors had free access to the outdoor gardens every day, except for Sundays. At the same time, the commercial operations of the nursery expanded rapidly, as evidenced by William Jr.'s increasingly thicker plant catalogues. He also began to subdivide the products among smaller specialized catalogues. In addition to his standard Annual Catalogue for Fruit and Ornamental Trees and Plants, which covered his earlier offerings, he began to issue catalogues that focused on items such as bulbous flowers and tubers, greenhouse plants, chrysanthemums, and vegetable and flower seeds. William Jr. attracted additional attention in 1828 when he published one of the first strictly horticultural books to come from the United States: A Short Treatise on Horticulture: Embracing Descriptions of a Great Variety of Fruit and Ornamental Trees and Shrubs, Grape Vines, Bulbous Flowers, Green-House Trees and Plants, &c. The book described all the plant offerings at the Linnaean Botanic Garden and Nursery, in some sense serving as an extended advertisement. The treatise also comprehensively covered horticultural topics, such as planting, pruning, and propagation. It even included information about soil preferences and methods for fungal disease control. Over the next three years, William Jr. worked with his son, William Robert, on two additional books, for which his son was the primary author. The first, A Treatise on the Vine, was published in 1830 and was the first significant book written in America on grape cultivation. The Princes had systematically tested scores of European grape varieties (Vitis vinifera), along with improved varieties of native North American grapes (like V. labrusca and V. riparia), and interspecific hybrids. The book described over two hundred European grape varieties and eighty American. This work helped to establish viticulture as a fullfledged branch of American horticulture, and for William Robert, grape breeding and cultivation remained a lifelong interest. The second book, The Pomological Manual, published in 1831, was a two-volume cyclopedia that attempted to catalogue all fruit varietwith two solid Dutch doors on either end and a bust of Linnaeus (likely from his father) on a bracket against the wall. The house's formal gardens contained two ginkgos (Ginkgo biloba), which were among the oldest in the country, and an old cedar of Lebanon (Cedrus libani) that the Princes had imported from France. Under William Robert's leadership, however, the business began to struggle. In the 1830s, he speculated heavily in the domestic silk industry and may have been a key contributor to the skyrocketing prices for mulberry trees (Morus alba), the food source for silkworms. He imported more than one million mulberry trees from France in 1839, and shortly afterward, the price for mulberry trees crashed. When this venture failed, the Princes could not keep up with mortgage payments on the nursery, and by 1841, they lost the Linnaean Botanic Garden and Nurseries in foreclosure. These events spawned a bitter controversy with the property's new owner, Gabriel Winter, who was married to one of William Jr.'s cousins. Although William Robert continued to raise and sell plants from an adjacent nursery property, he and Winter competed in horticultural publications over the right to sell plants as the Linnaean Botanic Garden and Nurseries. Ultimately, the Princes kept the name, and Winter sold the remaining plant inventory and subdivided the original property for housing development. By 1846, the finances at the new Prince nursery began to stabilize, and William Robert published Prince's Manual of Roses, his third and final significant contribution to horticultural literature. At his new botanic garden, William Robert grew over seven hundred rose varieties, and the book provided detailed descriptions of varieties and featured many roses from China. He also included information about horticultural care and propagation. It was one of the very best works on this subject. Still, it was eclipsed in popularity by Samuel B. Parsons's book published the following year: The Rose: Its History, Poetry, Culture, and Classification. Parsons\u2014the proprietor of Parsons Nursery in Flushing\u2014ultimately revised his book as Parsons on the Rose: A Treatise on the Propagation, Culture, and History of the Rose. The competition between these books suggests the horticultural foment that was occurring in Flushing during this period. William Prince Jr. and his son William Robert Prince (above) authored seminal American horticultural manuals. In A Treatise on the Vine, published in 1830, they promoted new grape varieties, including 'Isabella', which became a favorite of American viticulturists. HEDRICK, 1908 AND 1911\/ARCHIVE OF THE ARNOLD ARBORETUM 22 Arnoldia 78\/5-6 \u2022 October 2021 Later, William Robert went on two extended botanical expeditions, to California (in 1849) and Mexico (in 1850). While these trips suggest that the business was doing reasonably well, William Robert began to gradually withdraw from the day-to-day management of the nursery around 1855, at the age of sixty. Instead, he devoted his energy to other botanical interests, including research on botanical medicinal remedies. He also continued to breed and evaluate new varieties of fruits and ornamental plants, especially grapes, strawberries, and roses. His oldest son, William III, meanwhile assumed increasing responsibility for the enterprise. William Robert's career reflected the changes that were going on in the American horticultural community. His father had been a founding member of the New York Horticultural Society in 1818 and joined the Massachusetts Horticultural Society after it was established in 1829, but he was also a member of the Linnaean Society of Paris, the Horticultural Society of London and Paris, and the Academy of Georgofili, based in Florence, Italy. William Robert invested his energy into the increasingly sophisticated American horticultural societies rather than those in Europe. He contributed many articles to the leading American agricultural magazines of the day, such as The Rural New Yorker and Gardener's Monthly. Moreover, he was a member of the American Institute of the City of New York and the American Pomological Society. On March 28, 1869, William Robert died at his home in Flushing, and as it turned out, the esteemed business died with him. William III had enlisted for the United States Army during the Civil War, and he chose to remain in the military. William Robert's second son, LeBaron Bradford, pursued a career in law and politics. Gardener's Monthly printed a two-page obituary for William Robert. It was a sad and respectful tribute to his horticultural brilliance while nonetheless remarking on his combative personality. Meanwhile, the Massachusetts Horticultural Society issued a full resolution commemorating his life as a \"pioneer in the field of horticulture,\" a title that seems equally appropriate for the three generations of Princes that came before him. In 1939, efforts were made to move William Robert's house to the site of the New York World's Fair, to demonstrate a historic colonial homestead, but the campaign came to no avail. Later, New York City park commissioner Robert Moses rejected a proposal to move the structure to Flushing Meadow Park. Moses's vision for a \"modern city\" had little space for old wooden buildings. In its last few years of use, the structure served as a rooming house and a club. The shabby, unpainted building was then boarded up and surrounded by billboards and a gas station. The house was torn down in 1942. Of course, by that point, the lush greenhouses that once welcomed winter visitors had long ago disappeared, and the nursery property had been subdivided and sold for development. Yet, the 150-year story of the Prince family lives on today. The family built a foundation for commercial horticulture in the United States. They championed the cultivation of plants from across the country and around the world, and their publications promoted best practices in horticulture. They even helped with establishing a more systematic approach for horticultural nomenclature. Moreover, the success of the Prince nurseries is inextricably linked to the subsequent generation of horticulturists who established businesses in Flushing. This expanding group of nursery owners became leaders in their own right. In this way, a horticultural legacy that began with one family who lived on the edge of Flushing Creek became a national and international story. Acknowledgment I'm grateful for the support of Susan Lacerte, who recently retired as executive director at the Queens Botanical Garden, located near the former Prince Nurseries. Susan's knowledge of horticulture in Flushing, both present and historical, has been an inspiration. References Cornett, P. 2004, January. Encounters with America's premier nursery and botanic garden. Twinleaf: 1-12. Downing, A. J. 1845. The fruits and fruit trees of America: Or the culture, propagation and management in the garden and orchard of fruit trees generally; with descriptions of all the finest varieties of fruit, native and foreign in this country. New York: Wiley and Putnam. \u222b The Prince Family 23 Gager, C. S. 1912, October. The first botanic garden on Long Island. Brooklyn Botanic Garden Record, 1(4): 97-99. Hedrick, U. P. 1911. The plums of New York (Report of the New York Agricultural Experiment Station). Albany, N.Y.: J. B. Lyon Company. Hedrick, U. P. 1908. The grapes of New York (Report of the New York Agricultural Experiment Station). Albany, N.Y.: J. B. Lyon Company. Hedrick, U. P. 1925. The small fruits of New York (Report of the New York Agricultural Experiment Station). Albany, N.Y.: J. B. Lyon Company. Hedrick, U.P. 1933. A history of agriculture in the State of New York. Printed for the New York State Agricultural Society, Albany, N.Y.: J. B. Lyon Company. Hotchkiss, T. W. 1934. Prince house, Lawrence Street & Northern Boulevard, photographs, written historical and descriptive data. Dist. No. 4, Southern New York State, Historic American Building Survey, HABS No. 4-19. Jacobsen, A. and Williams, J. D. 2009. Prince family nurseries (ca. 1737- post- 1851). Bulletin of the Hunt Institute of Botanical Documentation, 21(1): 4-7. Johnson, J. 1887. The village of Flushing, map of desirable building lots, Flushing: A historical sketch. New York: John P. Stock, Printer. Manks, D. S. 1967. How the American nursery trade began. Plants & Gardens, 23(2). McGourty, F. 1967. Long Island's famous nurseries. Plants & Gardens, 23(3). Munsell, W. W. 1882. History of Queens County, New York, with illustrations, portraits, & sketches of prominent families and individuals. New York: Press of George MacNamara. Prince, B. and Mills, S. F. 1823. A treatise and catalogue of fruit and ornamental trees, shrubs, &c., cultivated at the Old American Nursery. New York: Wm. Grattan. Prince, W. 1771. To be sold, by William Prince, at Flushing-Landing, on Long-Island, near New- York, a large collection of fruit trees, as follows. New York: H. Gaine. Prince, W. 1790. To be sold, by William Prince, at Flushing-Landing, on Long-Island, near New- York, a large collection, as follow, of fruit trees and shrubs. New York: H. Gaine. Prince, W. 1825. Annual catalogue of fruit and ornamental trees and plants, bulbous flower roots, green-house plants, &c. &c., cultivated at the Linnaean Botanic Garden, William Prince, proprietor. New York: T. and J. Swords. Prince, W. 1828. A short treatise on horticulture: Embracing descriptions of a great variety of fruit and ornamental trees and shrubs, grape vines, bulbous flowers, green-house trees and plants. New York: T. and J. Swords. Prince, W. R. and Prince, W. 1830. A treatise on the vine; Embracing it history from the earliest ages to the present day, with descriptions of above two hundred foreign, and eighty American varieties, together with a complete dissertation of the established culture, and management of vineyards. New York: T. & J. Swords. Prince, W. R. and Prince, W. 1831. The pomological manual; or a treatise on fruits: containing descriptions of a great number of the most valuable varieties for the orchard and garden. New York: T. & J. Swords. Prince, W. R. 1846. Princes' Manual of roses: Comprising the most complete history of the rose, including every class, and all the most admirable varieties that have appeared in Europe and America, together with ample information on their culture and propagation. New York: Clark & Austen, Saxton & Miles, Wiley & Putnam, and Stanford & Swords. Ross, P. 1902. A history of Long Island: From its earliest settlement to the present time. New York: Lewis Publishing Co. Smith, E. A. and Hayward, G. 1841. The village of Flushing, Queens County, L.I.: nine miles east of the city of New York: lat. 40\u00b0 45' 1\"N, lon. 73\u00b0 09' 58\"W. [Flushing?: s.n., ?] [Map] Retrieved from the Library of Congress, https:\/\/www.loc. gov\/item\/2008620796 St. George's Episcopal Church, Baptismal Records, 1800- 1840, Flushing, N.Y., 135-32 38th Avenue, Flushing, N.Y., Rev. Wilfredo Benitez, Rector. Trebor, H. (Ed.) 1938, October. Garden center: The four Princes\u2014William of America. So This is Flushing. Flushing, N.Y.: Halleran. U.S. Department of Agriculture. 1976. The Prince family manuscript collection: A register of their papers, in the National Agricultural Library (Library list 101). Beltsville, MD: U.S. Department of Agriculture, National Agricultural Library. Waldron, R. K. 1958. Prince's plants. The Call Number, 20(1). J. Stephen Casscles is an attorney, winemaker, and horticultural writer living in the Hudson Valley. His publications include Grapes of the Hudson Valley and Other Cool Climate Regions of the United States and Canada, published by Flint Mine Press."},{"has_event_date":0,"type":"arnoldia","title":"Such a Fine Assemblage: The Jesup Collection of North American Woods","article_sequence":7,"start_page":24,"end_page":49,"url":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/\/action\/directLinkImage?assetId=25742","featured_photo":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/servlet\/display?file=b34509f9d4e0d160af27.jpg","volume":78,"issue_number":"5-6","year":2021,"series":null,"season":null,"authors":"Mauz, Kathryn","article_content":"It was a beautiful day on August 1, 1782, when Prince William Henry, the third son of King George III, was received at the home and gardens of William Prince Sr. in Flushing Landing, New York. The American Revolutionary War had effectively ended the year before when the British surrendered at the Battle of Yorktown. Yet, the sixteen-year-old visitor, who would, in 1830, rise to the throne as King William IV, had come to present a stand of colors to the King's American Dragoons, encamped three miles to the east of the Princes. The British soldiers were invited for a barbecue of a whole roasted ox at the Prince home, not the kind of warm reception that an American patriot would have given to a future British monarch and his troops. Prince was a nursery owner, almost forty years older than William, and the visit suggests the prominence of both Prince and the nursery. During the visit, Prince and William discussed their shared interest in growing and breeding plums, a specialty of the nursery. Plums were a critical fruit crop because they could be dried and stored for long periods and used as a nutritious food by the British Navy. Prince had introduced new plum varieties to Long Island, observing the acclimatization of the green gage plum (a common form of Prunus domestica). He even developed new varieties of plums, including 'Yellow Gage', which he would officially introduce the year after William's visit. In 1789, another group of illustrious visitors stopped at Prince's nursery: the newly elected president of the United States, George Washington, and his entourage of vice president John Adams, New York governor George Clinton, and the president of the Continental Congress, John Jay. Washington was less impressed with the nursery than William had been. He noted a large number of young fruit trees but described the shrubs as \"trifling\" and the flowers as \"not numerous.\" Flushing had been under British military occupation for the past seven years, and little plant material could be shipped during those long years of hostility. Nonetheless, by the 1790s, the Prince Nursery was likely the largest propagator of grafted fruit trees in the United States. It would grow to become even more: a center of horticultural learning. The Prince family's horticultural enterprise originated with William Prince's father, Robert, who was born in the 1690s. (His birth year has been variously presented as 1692 and 1699.) By 1723, Robert had begun collecting, growing, and propagating trees for his fruit farm. The plants included varieties of apples, pears, plums, nectarines, peaches, cherries, and small fruits. Throughout Robert's life, the nursery slowly evolved into a vibrant commercial operation, occupying eight acres directly south of what is now Northern Boulevard. This first Prince homestead was a beautiful structure with rounded shingles, set in a bank of flowering shrubs on the western edge of his property, next to the Flushing Creek. Flushing\u2014in northern Queens County\u2014was an ideal location for a nursery that would grow to become national in scope. It sits on the Long Island Sound, where winters are milder than most other parts of the state and where summers are cooler and less humid than colonial centers to the south. Flushing boasted high-quality topsoil, rich and fertile, with few stones. An underlying subsoil provided good water drainage while retaining sufficient moisture to allow plants to grow quickly. Flushing's location relative to the Port of New York meant that plants could readily be shipped to other parts of the country and Europe. Moreover, Flushing benefited from the cultural and financial rise of New York City. These factors would, in the nineteenth century, induce many other prominent nurseries to establish operations in Flushing. Robert and his wife, Mary Burgess, had six children. Their oldest son, William, took over the nursery by 1745, the year before Robert's death. Under William's leadership, the nursery ultimately expanded to twenty-four acres. The diversity of plants increased, as did the total sales. At the time, the standard American practice for propagating fruit trees, especially peaches (Prunus persica), was to grow seedlings and not to graft a tree to a suitable rootstock. Because of this seed-grown method, the quality of orchard trees was unknown until they came to maturity. Prince realized the commercial value of predictability and often budded or grafted his fruit trees to keep the variety true. The nursery expanded quickly between 1750 and the beginning of the American Revolutionary War in 1776. William published his firstknown notice of advertisement on September 21, 1767, which stated, \"For sale at William Prince's nursery, Flushing, a great variety of fruit trees, such as apple, plum, peach, nectarine, cherry, apricot and pear. They may be put up so as to be sent to Europe. Capt. Jeremiah Mitchell and Daniel Clements go to New York in passage boats Tuesdays and Fridays.\" The nursery's first-known catalogue appeared in 1771, a single-page broadsheet. The list contained over 230 plant selections, which was sizable for a nursery in colonial America. In addition to fruit crops, the offerings included evergreen trees, timber trees, and shrubs. Among the ornamental selections, tulip trees (Liriodendron tulipifera) and lilacs (three varieties, presumably Syringa vulgaris) were among the most expensive. An advertisement published in the New York Mercury, dated March 14, 1774, stated that William Prince was selling more than one hundred Carolina magnolias (Magnolia grandiflora) that were over four feet tall, raised from seed. He also advertised ninefoot- tall catalpas (Catalpa speciosa). The Revolutionary War halted the shipment of Prince's plants to most parts of the American colonies, except for areas under British control, such as Manhattan, Brooklyn, Long Island, and parts of the South. These wartime closures hurt the business. Reports variously state that somewhere between three thousand to thirty thousand grafted cherry trees were either purchased or confiscated by the British, to be used as hoops for making barrels. Yet, the Princes were likely British Loyalists and benefited from military protection. In fact, William's daughter Sarah married a British Army Major, Charles McNeill, who resigned from his military service after the war. And the British General Lord Howe ordered army units to guard the nursery, posting soldiers at the entrances. When George Washington visited the Princes with his entourage in 1789, his assessment of the poor quality and low diversity of the ornamental plants may suggest that nursery was still recovering from the war. Yet, by the summer of 1791, secretary of state Thomas Jefferson and his fellow Democratic-Republican James Madison of Virginia visited the nursery and reported more favorably. The men were touring New York and New England to study botanical curiosities, wildlife, and historic battlefields. They maintained that the tour was for health reasons and scientific exploration. Yet, those versed in politics noted that the trip was conducted through the country's Federalists strongholds of New York and New England instead of areas dominated by Jefferson's political base of Democratic-Republican support. Jefferson desired to improve domestic agriculture and arranged the nursery stop to discuss his ideas with William. Among the topics, they talked about Jefferson's vision for promoting the cultivation of sugar maples (Acer saccharum) for syrup production. Jefferson also took the opportunity to order plants for himself: sugar maples, highbush cranberries (Viburnum trilobum), balsam poplars (Populus balsamifera), and Beurre Gris pears (a variety of Pyrus communis). Later, he expanded his order to include stone fruits and nut trees, along with an array of ornamental trees, shrubs, and roses. As the United States grew towards the close of the century, so did the Prince Nursery. By 1793, William Prince, at the age of sixty-eight, turned over operations to his sons Benjamin and William Jr. Benjamin maintained the original family nursery for many years, calling it the Old American Nursery, but it was William Jr. who became the primary mover of the family business in the third generation. In 1793, he purchased twenty-four acres directly northeast of the original nursery. There, on the banks of \u222b Flushing Creek, he established his Linnaean Botanic Garden and Nursery. He designed it as a showplace to educate the public on botanical matters, including native plants, new varieties bred in the United States, and pOn May 18, 1885, an important exhibition heralded as a \"noble gift to the city\"1 opened at the American Museum of Natural History in New York. Beneath the high ceilings of the exhibition hall, glass cases displayed 350 specimens as the Jesup Collection of North American Woods. Each was a whole log, about four and a half feet tall, still cloaked with bark as in life, with the upper half cut away to reveal the wood inside. Many of the specimens were accompanied by original watercolor illustrations of foliage, fruit, and flowers. A writer announced of the exhibit in Harper's Weekly, \"The average visitor will be impressed and surprised by the beauty of some and by the extreme oddity of others.\u2026 The various coloring of the woods, often rich and sometimes startling, and running into the most delicate shades, and the strength or grace or whimsicality of form, as traced in the divers[e] coursings of the grain, are matters to attract even the casual eye, and to stamp as absurd the hasty judgement which would say that a collection of logs can not be interesting.\"2 Over the coming years, the collection grew to include more than five hundred species. It represented the scientific and philanthropic vision of two noteworthy individuals: Morris Ketchum Jesup, one of the founders of the American Museum of Natural History, and Charles Sprague Sargent, the director of the Arnold Arboretum. The collection remained a cornerstone of the museum's exhibits for more than six decades. The fact that an exhibition of this magnitude could almost entirely vanish from the public memory seems almost improbable. Yet, the story of its exile is as intriguing as that of its origins. A Generous Friend On the occasion of the Philadelphia Centennial Exhibition of 1876, William H. Brewer, a professor of agricultural science at Yale University, observed, \"America has long been described by geographers and naturalists as the wooded continent, distinguished for the luxuriance and extent of its forests and the number of its arboreal species.\"3 At that time, scientists were beginning to comprehend the vastness of North American forests, but popular appreciation of this forest wealth lagged behind. At the Exhibition, audiences were introduced to displays of American woods and wood products through exhibits mounted by individual states and by the United States Department of Agriculture, which showcased specimens representing four hundred tree species from around the country.4 Such exhibits distilled an abstract general abundance into the remarkable variety of trees that comprised the country's forests. The Exhibition's millions of visitors vastly exceeded the number of people who had ever traveled across the country or explored its forested lands, and early efforts to organize around the idea of forest conservation took root at that gathering. At the time, there was not a museum in the country that possessed a similar, permanent exhibit that could perpetuate the transient awe from the Centennial Exhibition into an enduring educational mission. In 1880, such an exhibit\u2014but one even more monumental\u2014 became Jesup's vision for the American Museum of Natural History. A forest lover himself, Jesup was also keenly interested in the uses of forests and, increasingly, in the roles forests played in the wider landscape of human settlement and industry. Jesup and the museum's director, Such a Fine Assemblage: The Jesup Collection of North American Woods Kathryn Mauz Facing page: The Jesup Collection of North American Woods revealed the wonder and scientific diversity of North American forests by showcasing wood samples from more than five hundred tree species. As one commentator later said, it was \"a perfectly unique collection which cannot anywhere be repeated.\" AMNH RESEARCH LIBRARY DIGITAL SPECIAL COLLECTIONS, 31642 MAUZ, K. 2021. SUCH A FINE ASSEMBLAGE: THE JESUP COLLECTION OF NORTH AMERICAN WOODS. ARNOLDIA, 78(5-6): 24-49 26 Arnoldia 78\/5-6 \u2022 October 2021 Albert S. Bickmore, discussed the possibility of developing this exhibit at the museum for the expressed purpose of showcasing the contributions of American forests to industrial and artistic endeavors. In August 1880, while attending the annual meeting of the American Association for the Advancement of Science in Boston, Bickmore approached Harvard botany professor Asa Gray for advice. He described the museum's planned Department of Economic Botany, which was primarily to feature important products from the forests of the country. Gray directed him to interview Sargent, who at the time was in charge of the census of American forests for the Tenth Census of the United States. Bickmore spent an afternoon at Dwight House on Sargent's Holm Lea estate in the suburb of Brookline. Although Sargent was away conducting fieldwork, Bickmore toured the grounds and learned about the work Sargent was pursuing for the forest census. Bickmore soon wrote to Sargent in care of the Palace Hotel in San Francisco, where Sargent was briefly stopped along the last leg of his grand tour of western forests. As Bickmore explained, a \"generous friend\" of the museum wished to develop an \"instructive and attractive collection\" of the wood products of North American forests, \"placing it in a tangible, visual form before our citizens and our tide of visitors from all parts of the continent.\"5 Of course, that unspecified friend was Jesup, who would become the museum's president from 1881 until his death in 1908. His foresight had led him to Sargent, whose zeal and breadth of knowledge were positively suited to realizing this singular goal, and whose awareness of his own expertise prevented him from letting the opportunity pass to someone else. Jesup also sponsored other collections and many expeditions in varied fields of study during his tenure at the museum, and Sargent simultaneously expanded the Arnold Arboretum's living collection and pursued an astounding schedule of publication. Yet, the wood collection was seen as a crowning achievement during the lifetimes of both men. It was, according to one commentator, \"a perfectly unique collection which cannot anywhere be repeated.\"6 ARCHIVES OF THE ARNOLD ARBORETUM AMNH RESEARCH LIBRARY DIGITAL SPECIAL COLLECTIONS, 2A5200 The Jesup Collection emerged from the collaboration of Morris K. Jesup (right) and Charles Sprague Sargent. Jesup Collection 27 Unprecedented Activity Following his return from the west, Sargent met with Jesup and Bickmore in New York in the first week of November 1880. In response to the proposed project, he sent a seven-page letter describing his \"suggestions\" for the wood collection and its exhibition, which in effect were stipulations to guarantee his participation. Sargent believed that the collection should incorporate every tree species that grew naturally in the United States, even those that were of limited distribution or held little economic value. As a reflection of his recent and ongoing work on the forest census, he argued that only this approach would allow the collection's importance to be realized by both the public and scientists, who, he would later assert, \"will value it in proportion to its completeness.\"7 Further, Sargent insisted that the exhibit be arranged according to the botanical relationships of the species, following the organization of his report for the forest census, and that the labels should incorporate the data from his investigations as to each species' geographic distribution and the properties of its wood. He shared Jesup's interest in including foliage and fruit to illustrate the aspect of the living trees, as well as the products derived from the trees that were important to commerce and the trades.8 In essence, it would be a full-scale adjunct to his census report, one that Jesup hoped would also have popular appeal and that all concerned believed would be an asset to the museum.9 Sargent's primary role in the project was to direct and coordinate the field efforts and, later, to provide interpretation for the resulting specimens. By mid-December 1880, once a general plan for the collection was understood, he was becoming impatient to send collectors into the field.10 The first to be recruited were alumni of the forest census who were familiar with both the terrain and tree species they were to locate, as well as the rigors and routine of moving logs from the forests to the railroads for shipping. Some were in the field as early as January, and specimens began arriving at the museum in early March 1881. Charles Mohr, a physician and botanist who lived in Mobile, Alabama, was charged with finding trees in the Gulf Coast states. (Records show that the first specimen to be received may have been Yucca treculeana, or Spanish dagger, an arborescent species, if not precisely a tree, sent from Texas by Mohr.11) Samuel B. Buckley, a botanist and long-time resident near Austin, Texas, began collecting nearby and at points across the southern interior of the state. Allen H. Curtiss, a naturalist living in Jacksonville, Florida, was sent to explore southern Florida, the Florida Keys, and the interior Southeast; in his first season, Curtiss sent more than forty specimens, and he ultimately contributed more than any other collector. George W. Letterman, a schoolteacher and amateur botanist in Allenton, Missouri, began his work that spring in Arkansas, made numerous collections in southern and central Missouri, and later ventured as far as northeastern Texas and Louisiana. Henry W. Ravenel, an accomplished botanist of Aiken, South Carolina, sent specimens from the Piedmont and coast of South Carolina and Georgia that year. Starting in the fall of 1881, John H. Sears, a naturalist in Salem, Massachusetts, explored the \"Atlantic forests\" of northern New York state and eastern Massachusetts. For the first two years, Vermont botanist Cyrus G. Pringle traveled well beyond his home state to collect in Arizona, California, and the Pacific Northwest, and later sent logs of several species from Texas and northern Mexico, as well; second only to Curtiss in number of specimens sent, Pringle certainly traveled more extensively for the project than anyone else. The collecting corps came to include physicians, veterans of state geological surveys and departments of agriculture, itinerant botanists, horticulturists, foresters, several of Sargent's professional acquaintances in the lumbering and milling industries, Sargent himself, and even the collection's caretaker, Samuel D. Dill, at the museum. The majority of specimens were collected by a handful of men, but over time more than fifty individuals contributed material to the Jesup Collection. Sargent initially envisioned an ambitious schedule, entailing just one or two years to complete the explorations necessary to find and acquire the specimens.12 That, like the costs involved, turned out to be underestimated\u2014not 28 Arnoldia 78\/5-6 \u2022 October 2021 only were there unforeseen delays but more species in newly explored places were discovered over time, in part as a result of Sargent's own studies. As time went on, Jesup sometimes questioned the necessity for including extraneous, noneconomic species, noting to Sargent, \"Its completeness in a scientific or botanical sense, to my mind is secondary.\"13 To Bickmore privately, he observed that many tree species, \"while they may be rare and valuable in a scientific sense, are useless economically owing to the remote and inaccessible districts where they grow and the necessary cost of transportation to manufacturing centres.\"14 Sargent nonetheless continued to send collectors far afield and on special trips for newly discovered or rare species in the interest of amassing a comprehensive collection. He had taken on the project gratis, with an eye toward his own long-term interests in American forests. With the collection's scientific contributions as his priority, Sargent advised Jesup early in 1881, \"It is not too late for us both to retire altogether from the undertaking, which unless carried out largely will add neither reputation to the Museum, nor credit to the parties most interested.\"15 The project went on, and fifteen years later he emphasized the significance of the work to Jesup: \"The formation of your Collection, the publication of my book, and other causes have led to an unprecedented activity in dendrological exploration and study in all parts of the country and several new species of trees have been discovered.\"16 Sargent's aim was to represent the arboreal flora of the continent, and he wanted Jesup's vision to match his own. It Should Contain Every Tree As the sponsor of the collection, Jesup not only funded the collector's activities but organized logistics for travel and shipping. He was wealthy and generous, but disciplined and frugal in his philanthropy, interested to see that his money was well spent for the greatest benefit. To this end, he set as a goal keeping costs of travel and freight to a minimum, even zero, whenever possible. Nonetheless, the cost of transportation, shipping, and tracking the specimens across the country represented the majority of the project's expenses and occupied much of the correspondence between Sargent and the museum during these early years. In the early weeks of 1881, Jesup personally communicated with the officers of dozens of railroad and steamship companies in order to procure travel passes for the collectors and free shipping for the weighty specimens they were expecting to send to New York from points around the country. Because the favors granted were often specific to individual collectors, over certain routes, and good only for specified periods of time, this became for him a never-ending task that strained his ample reserves of tact and humility. Through Jesup's general success in securing waivers, Sargent could then assign collectors to regions where they could travel freely and ship at no or reduced cost. In practice, there were frequent misunderstandings on the part of station agents who were unaware of these unconventional arrangements or would not act on them. Specimens were sometimes shipped from points or by routes other than what had been agreed upon, exceeded the weights and dimensions originally anticipated, were delayed so long that they decayed in transit, or were occasionally even lost. The railroads, and Jesup, wanted definite parameters ahead of time, whereas Sargent better understood the idiosyncrasies and exigencies of field work and insisted that flexibility was necessary. It was Jesup's money, and indeed his reputation, at risk, and these overages and losses were routine points of contention between the two principals almost from the beginning.17 As the true scale of the task became apparent, Jesup questioned Sargent's early estimates about the cost of the project. He had initially thought that the collection could be completed for ten thousand dollars or possibly less,18 but that sum was exceeded before the end of the second year of work; total expenditures multiplied fivefold before the sixth field season and continued to grow from there.19 Although Sargent promised to proceed as economically as he could, he maintained his emphasis on the need for a complete and scientifically valuable set of specimens. Following one expensive expedition in 1885, for example, Sargent countered Jesup's objections, telling him, \"I hope you will not endeavor to separate practical value from Jesup Collection 29 scientific value in your mind when considering this collection. They cannot safely be separated. And it is because I have always refused to do this in the treatment of the matter that the collection is what it is, the best of its kind.\"20 Bickmore and Jesup at the museum recognized that ceding some control to Sargent (and absorbing additional expense) was necessary both to achieving that goal and to maintaining goodwill in general.21 Nearly two decades after the project's inception, as he and Jesup revisited this same familiar disagreement in 1899, Sargent argued, \"It should contain every tree described and illustrated in my Silva of North America.\"22 Although their differences in philosophy did not entirely fade over time, Jesup grudgingly found himself obligated to continue to subsidize these missions\u2014 well into the 1890s and, for a few species, even past the turn of the century\u2014rather than risk the appearance of incompleteness once so many others had been gathered. Early on he remarked to Sargent, \"To have our museum contain that which cannot be found at any other will fully compensate me for the cost.\"23 A Grand Showing Unlike the small blocks of wood Sargent prepared for his census investigations24 or the short logs cut lengthwise for display at the Centennial Exhibition, the museum's specimens were to be whole logs, over five feet long when collected, and of such diameters as necessary (from a few inches to three feet or more) to represent the best-grown examples of the trees. Collectors routinely shipped thousands of pounds of specimens at once, where certain individual logs could weigh hundreds of pounds when freshly cut. At the outset, Sargent anticipated that about four hundred species would need to be assembled, but that number increased by another one hundred or more over time. Within the year, Bickmore reported to Sargent, \"We have been frequently receiving the magnificent series of logs your agents have gathered until they make a grand showing in the cellar.\"25 After the first full year of fieldwork, nearly three hundred were in various states of preparation at the museum, with more arriving by the month.26 Incoming shipments were initially delivered to the museum's \"new building\" (opened in December 187727) on Manhattan Square, west of Central Park. When space became limited, the logs were directed instead to the historical Arsenal building, where the museum's collections were originally housed, near the eastern boundary of the park. When the logs were prepared in the field, collectors were careful to wrap each one in burlap or other \"bagging\" material, sometimes also in rawhide, and to construct crates in which the log could be shipped with ample padding to preserve the bark intact. Once at the museum's workshop, they underwent a lengthy process of preparation for eventual display. Because the logs were shipped \"green\" and were full of moisture, the primary concern was for drying them carefully to prevent \"checking\" or splitting that would ruin them for display. Bickmore himself devised a method of boring holes into the bottom of a log to allow the wood to \"season\" or dry out more evenly.28 Bickmore notified Sargent further, \"We have a fire under the boilers in the cellar constantly so that that is probably the driest room in the building, and the heat is gentle & slow and I believe particularly well adapted to preparing the fine logs that are now coming in, and I think there will be no necessity of having the specimens kiln dried, unless you have reason to suspect they contain destructive larvae.\"29 It was estimated that logs could lose up to half their weight in drying, and that thorough seasoning could sometimes require one or two years.30 Following the drying process, the logs were cut to a uniform fifty-six inches in height; the upper twenty-four inches was sawn longitudinally in half, and the top edge of the cut end was beveled, resulting in the grain of the wood being exposed in three directions. Finally, one half of the cut surface was finished with varnish to provide a clear view of the grain. Sargent requested that a diagram be made of each log to show the pattern of the bark, the widths of the sapwood and heartwood, and the growth rings apparent in cross-section;31 these data, as indicators of growth rate, were eventually reported for many species in Sargent's fourteen-volume Silva of North America, but the diagrams themselves have not survived. 30 Arnoldia 78\/5-6 \u2022 October 2021 Jesup's initial hopes that the collection would be ready for public viewing by the autumn of 1882 were not realized, but both he and Sargent agreed that the collection's \"value and permanence,\" from a scientific standpoint, and its \"beauty and usefulness\" to the public would be favored by postponing until all the specimens were fully seasoned, prepared, and labeled.32 The exhibit space dedicated to the Jesup Collection was intended to be on the third floor of the Arsenal, an area the museum regarded as \"dangerous\" even when exhibits had been open to the public there a decade earlier.33 Almost immediately, there were concerns about the combined weight of the specimens.34 When the walls of the building were observed to have to spread slightly by October 1882, the Department of Public Parks architect, Calvert Vaux, insisted that the excess weight be removed to comply with his specifications: not to exceed thirty-eight and a half tons, evenly distributed in the halls and the octagonal alcoves at each corner.35 At that time, there were 388 logs onsite and in preparation, with 60 more expected to \"complete\" the collection.36 This circumstance hinted at another persistent theme that would follow the collection through time: housing it would always present substantial, even prohibitive infrastructural challenges. Soon, the allotted hall at the Arsenal became a workshop and storeroom for the log specimens rather than their exhibit space. By the spring of 1883, construction at the museum's new building included the installation of \"a large glass case, in two sections, extending along the middle of the Lower Hall,\" meant to accommodate the log collection but necessarily displacing an exhibit of shells to another floor.37 By that autumn, there were two large cases, each 135 feet long, with six additional cases along the side.38 The initial delay of six months had extended to a full year, and even then, opening by the following year was in doubt. In February 1884, Sargent estimated that just 105 specimens were \"finished and ready\";39 in April, he wrote to Jesup and Bickmore to suggest delaying until the spring of 1885, when he thought that as many as 350 specimens would be fully prepared for exhibition.40 A Credit to the City With a date finally fixed for the exhibit's opening, Bickmore promoted it as \"the first effort yet made in this country to gather the native woods together in one collection on a scale commensurate with the extent of the new continent and the importance of its forests.\"41 Sargent had been at work on a condensed version of his census report, enumerating 412 species as The Woods of the United States, which would serve as a guidebook to the collection.42 In April, he reassured Jesup, \"The geographical labels will be finished this week. They have cost me an immense amount of labor & bother, but I think they will be a great success, and are certainly the best things of the kind ever attempted. I shall be in N.Y. next week, long enough to see that everything is properly arranged.\"43 In his annual report to the trustees of the museum, Jesup hoped that the collection \"will prove another popular attraction to the museum, and be the means of largely increasing the knowledge and information of the people on the subject of our forests, now demanding so large a share of public attention.\"44 The exhibit opened to visitors on May 18, 1885, to popular acclaim. In addition to 350 logs with their labels, the new exhibit featured about eighty watercolor illustrations of the foliage, flowers, and fruit of tree species, prepared by Mary Robeson Sargent (Sargent's wife) at Jesup's request. These, in particular, met with high praise: \"The artist has been true to nature, without loss of refined and purely artistic method, a combination almost unknown in what is called a scientific treatment of natural objects. The result is delightful \u2026 many persons will appreciate for the first time the beauty and grace possessed by the flowers and fruits of many of our common forest trees.\"45 For the benefit of individuals wishing to study the woods from a botanical perspective, a corresponding herbarium had been prepared by Charles Faxon, the assistant director and herbarium curator at the Arnold Arboretum, and shipped to the museum that spring. The Jesup Collection was soon described in the press as \"a credit to the city, and a lasting testimonial to the wisdom and public spirit of Facing page: The press lauded the opening of the Jesup Collection in 1885. This engraving by C. Graham appeared in Harper's Weekly shortly after the exhibition opening. COURTESY OF THE AUTHOR 32 Arnoldia 78\/5-6 \u2022 October 2021 the gentleman who caused it to be created.\"46 It was a first step toward Jesup's original ideal, still awaiting not only more species but examples of economic products and additional illustrations to fully represent the American forests. As far as Sargent's objectives, there was also more to come, but scientific visitors had already found it as informative as it was popular. Worthily Housed In its first incarnation, the woods exhibit occupied the lower floor of the Museum, \"in the space between the rows of side cases,\" leading to the observation on opening day that the space \"is too contracted for this use, and the floor has a cluttered appearance which those who recall its original spaciousness and light will regret. Plainly the time has come when a new wing for the Museum is demanded, so that this collection, unique in its scientific and industrial importance, shall have the sweep of an entire floor.\"47 At the time, the logs shared the hall with the collection of mammals, whose curator was critical of the disruption to those displays.48 Sargent, naturally, weighed in, complaining that \"nothing can be worse than the present mixture of mammals & woods.\"49 While there were already long-term plans for additions to the museum's building, Sargent proposed an alternative idea to Jesup: the museum should construct a separate one-story building for the purpose of housing the wood collection and associated forestry resources, including a library and herbarium, and call it the Jesup Building. He wrote to Jesup, \"The whole thing could be put up in a couple of A large cross-section of a Douglas fir (Pseudotsuga menziesii) appears among cases in the American Museum of Natural History's Forestry Hall, shown in 1903. AMNH RESEARCH LIBRARY DIGITAL SPECIAL COLLECTIONS, 42124 Jesup Collection 33 months and you could have your collection in safe quarters where it could never be interfered with by any one & arranged in such a manner that there never could be any danger of its becoming merged or mixed with the other collections.\"50 It is clear that Sargent wanted to resolve some of the fundamental curatorial problems that the collection was already experiencing, but it is also tempting to suppose that Sargent wanted his own museum of woods (and that Jesup would build it for him). That notion was never pursued, but the Jesup Collection did prevail in occupying the lower hall all to itself. A new display was opened to the public on November 15, 1890, revealing 425 species and almost 250 watercolors, arranged in family groups in the cases along each side of the hall.51 While this was seen as an improvement, and many visitors believed the collection actually was complete, Sargent advised Jesup not a year later, \"I don't think that we ought to consider the arrangement as final or that the collection is worthily housed or properly arranged until some radical change is made by which sufficient room for its display can be had.\"52 In 1893, planning began for the construction of the museum's southeast wing, part of the Seventy-Seventh Street facade, the ground floor of which would be dedicated to the wood collection when it was completed in 1895.53 As the new wing took shape and its opening drew closer, there ensued a paramount disagreement (most emphatic and least charitable on the part of Sargent) over plans for the new hall. In a two-page, typewritten response to Jesup's early scheme for cases and general arrangement, Sargent replied vehemently, and disproportionately: \"A good deal of additional work in connection with the Collection has been laid out for me but I confess I do not feel much like undertaking it if the results are to be as bad as you seem to be determined to make them.\" He asserted that his reputation among scientists could suffer if Jesup's plans were followed, concluding, \"This, from my point of view, is the unfortunate thing in the whole matter and why I believe that I have not been treated properly by you.\"54 Jesup wrote out a six-page reply (that he did not send) in which he recounted their previous discussions about the design. He concluded, \"It would be more agreeable to me in meeting with objections from yourself to have them presented to me in a spirit of help and friendliness \u2026 During the many years of our friendship I have exerted myself to please you, and shall continue to do so in any way I can, but I expect consideration at your hands also.\"55 In place of this letter, Jesup sent museum secretary John H. Winser to consult with Sargent in person about the central points of dispute, namely the design of the new cases and the placement of the immense cross-sections of coast redwood (Sequoia sempervirens) and giant sequoia (Sequoiadendron giganteum). In short, Jesup had wanted to include two or more round cases to break up the \"monotony\" of the exhibit, but doing so would have interrupted the botanical order to a degree that Sargent could not tolerate. At the same time, Jesup had arranged to place the cross-sections of the big trees just outside the main hall, on either side of the entrance, in part because of the architectural requirements for supporting them; Sargent was adamant that they should be placed in the center of the hall with the other logs, despite that this arrangement would require structural reinforcement of the floor. Jesup's proposal took into account the flow of visitors, the overall aesthetic, costs, and the physical constraints of the building; Sargent worried most about what other scientists would think of the exhibit and felt that those concerns had not been adequately considered.56 Citing engineering and safety factors, an Executive Committee of the museum resolved the practical question, temporarily, in favor of the original layout.57 Early in 1896, when the specimens were moved into the new hall and the watercolors were hung, the debate subsided, and Sargent's attention turned back to his usual curatorial concerns. Jesup assured the museum's trustees that the lower hall of the new East Wing had been designated for the \"permanent lodgment\" of the wood collection and concluded, \"It is thought that no better plan can be conceived whereby the effectiveness of the exhibit can be increased.\"58 Not surprisingly, however, even this latest arrangement would be revised again as specimens were added to the exhibit, at Sargent's urging, through the early 1900s.59 Cyrus Pringle \u2014 Pacirsc Northwest, Arizona, California, Texas, and Northern Mexico \u2014 \"He made for the Jesup Collection of North American Woods \u2026 a large collection of timber specimens from some of the most inaccessible and digscult regions \u2026 Becoming interested during this journey in the usora of Mexico, he has for the last twelve years devoted himself exclusively to its exploration. During his annual journeys, which have extended over many of the states, he has made large and unrivaled collections \u2026 and has discovered many undescribed genera and species.\" Samuel Buckley \u2014 Southern Texas \u2014 \"Buckleya, a remarkable Santalaceous genus, of which he discovered the usowers and fruit, and which is represented in the usora of America by a graceful shrub of the mountains of North Carolina \u2026 rstly commemorates Buckley's zealous and too little appreciated labors in the cause of science.\" Jesup Collectors \u2014 More than rsfty collectors helped with acquiring, packaging, and sending large wood specimens for the Jesup Collection of North American Woods. fse specimens originated from thirty-two states, along with four Mexican states and one Canadian province. Several collectors were especially prolrsc. fseir general collecting locales are shown on this map of coniferous and deciduous forests, prairies, and treeless regions, created for the 1880 Census of the United States. Charles Sargent often commemorated the careers of collectors in his Silva of North America. fsese excerpts suggest the nature of the collectors' accomplishments. State or province represented in the collection. Charles Mohr \u2014 Gulf Coast \u2014 \"He made his home at Mobile, Alabama. Here for many years he has been a successful manufacturing druggist, and has devoted his spare time to the study of the usora and the natural resources of the state.\" Allen Curtiss \u2014 Florida and Interior Southeast \u2014 \"He has found many plants, including a number of tropical trees, not known in the territory of the United States before his time.\" John Sears \u2014 Northern New York and Eastern Massachusetts George Letterman \u2014 Missouri, Arkansas, and Northeastern Texas \u2014 \"He rsnally in 1869 settled in Allenton, Missouri, a railroad hamlet about thirty miles west of St. Louis \u2026 fse distribution of the trees of this region before Mr. Letterman's travels was little known, and much useful information concerning them was rsrst gathered by him.\" Henry Ravenel \u2014 South Carolina and Georgia \u2014 \"No other American botanist, perhaps, has minutely studied so many forms of the vegetable kingdom as Ravenel, and none has been more respected or beloved.\" 36 Arnoldia 78\/5-6 \u2022 October 2021 Practically Complete As Sargent's early work on the forest census had concluded in 1884, his focus shifted to taxonomically oriented investigations in support of his Silva of North America and other publications. For nearly two decades, the development of the Jesup Collection was synergistic with that work. Sargent never rested in his ambition to add species to the wood collection, even when his practice conflicted with Jesup's financial concerns and with the museum's pragmatic considerations for their curation. As early as April 1883, after more than two full years of collecting effort, Sargent had indicated that there were twenty-one species needed to complete the collection.60 Still, in February 1886, he reported that there were another \"18 or really 19,\" of which several had already been sent for.61 Just a year later, he wrote, \"I find that there are still a few species which must be added to the Jesup Collection in order to make it complete, and that, moreover, a few important species are not yet properly represented in the Collection.\"62 Sargent reflected in 1889, \"I consider that the collection is practically complete,\" 63 but that notion was short-lived. Sargent soon organized a special expedition to the West Coast and Arizona in 1891 for several unrepresented species. In January 1894, Jesup reported that Sargent had sent him \"the gratifying assurance\" that the collection \"is now complete\"64\u2014even as Sargent was preparing to leave on another collecting trip to Arizona to support his work on the Silva, resulting in at least one new specimen for the museum.65 In April 1898, another twenty-eight species were called for.66 In May 1900, Sargent wrote to museum secretary J. H. Winser, \"We have been finding a lot more trees in the United States during the last year. None of them are very large but all have a scientific interest.\u2026 Now what I want to know is whether I shall go ahead and use my discretion in obtaining such material as may be necessary to complete the Collection.\"67 A year later, Sargent ordered several more specimens from Arkansas, Texas, and Missouri, and noted, \"I understand there is still a good deal more work to do on the collection before it can be considered complete.\"68 Very late in this process, Sargent occasionally accompanied his requests with a lament, such as, \"If it is not continued, I shall be saved a lot of disagreeable bother and letter-writing.\"69 Jesup at times wondered at the necessity of so many very similar species, the number of duplicate specimens that had been sent, and the many that needed to be replaced over time because of damage or decay. He was also not na\u00efve to the fact that he was often financing Sargent's research by supporting new collecting trips for certain trees, and he once expressed frustration about this habit.70 In a note to himself on the back of one letter, Jesup wrote, \"I wonder when the getting of specimens is going to stop.\"71 Both men were clearly tiring of the work of supervising and organizing the collection, wanting it to be both comprehensive and finished, but Jesup's support continued. Still additional specimens were received at the museum late in 1901,72 but by July 1902, Sargent was again discussing sending a collector for more.73 In 1908, the year of Jesup's death, thirty-five specimens (possibly the last) were added to the exhibit.74 Intelligence, Technical Knowledge and Enthusiasm While Sargent continued to direct the collection of new specimens, the opening of the museum's public exhibit in 1885 had added an informal duty: the role of absentee curator. Although S. D. Dill, an experienced carpenter, had been hired specifically to oversee the preparation and installation of the logs and related materials, as well as to build the cases for them, Sargent had ideas of his own about how the collection should be handled and displayed. Beyond persistently lobbying for more space, he involved himself in the minutiae of how logs should be arranged, directly supervised the preparation of labels, and critiqued the display of illustrations following his occasional visits to New York. Only months into the exhibition, Sargent wrote to Jesup with concerns that some specimens housed in new cases were \"already suffering from extremes of temperature as I feared that they would.\" He added that he was \"very anxious & troubled\" that Dill's workroom in the Arsenal was inadequately heated and exposed the specimens to \"danger of destruction by fire or at the hands of outsiders.\"75 Nearly fifteen years later, he offered a similar assessment and insisted that Dill be provided with a workspace Jesup Collection 37 Cross-sections of giant sequoia (Sequoiadendron giganteum, left) and coast redwood (Sequoia sempervirens) flank the entrance to Forestry Hall. The giant sequoia is the only specimen from the Jesup Collection now displayed at the museum. AMNH RESEARCH LIBRARY DIGITAL SPECIAL COLLECTIONS, 5299 that better protected the specimens, adding, \"The money value and cost of these specimens is small in proportion to the expenditure of intelligence, technical knowledge and enthusiasm necessary to procure them, and it is discouraging after all the labor which has been expended in getting them if they are allowed to go to ruin in the Museum.\"76 Although work remained to be done, and to Sargent's dismay, Dill, the collection's chief preparator, caretaker, and de facto on-site curator for twenty years, left the museum for his native Nova Scotia in 1902. To facilitate interpretation of the specimens, museum director Herman C. Bumpus began an inventory of the wood collection in 1903 77 and enlisted Roy W. Miner from the Department of Invertebrate Zoology for the task. Even at that time, the museum's growing bias toward other facets of natural history, to the neglect of botany, was apparent to Bumpus, who frankly acknowledged the economic entomology and wood collections as the entirety of the museum's botanical holdings.78 The \"Forestry Department\" (comprising essentially the collection itself) was without a dedicated curator until 1907, when Alfred C. Burrill, an entomologist by training, was appointed to oversee the exhibit of woods.79 In 1909, Mary C. Dickerson was hired as curator of the Department of Woods and Forestry and served in that capacity for a decade.80 During her editorship of the American Museum Journal, forestry was several times a featured topic. In her 1910 guide to \"Trees and Forestry,\" 38 Arnoldia 78\/5-6 \u2022 October 2021 which drew examples from the Jesup Collection, she expanded on themes of ecology and conservation that were not only current but had long been advocated by the collection's progenitors, Jesup and Sargent.81 Just two years after Jesup's death, museum president Henry F. Osborn reported, \"The Jesup Collection of North American Woods is being rearranged and installed in a way to bring out more clearly the classification of trees, their relationship and their economic uses.\"82 With the wood collection numbering 505 specimens on display, additions were made for several more years in the form of watercolors, photographs, and wax models of foliage, flowers, and fruit;83 Mary Sargent had continued to add to the watercolor series, until more than four hundred paintings were on display with the logs. Space continued to be a problem as time went on (there, and throughout the museum), and activity centered around rearranging specimens to avoid crowding to the extent that was possible.84 Aside from Sargent, who had contributed his knowledge during the collection's genesis, only an oversight committee\u2014chaired in absentia by Gifford Pinchot (cofounder of the Yale Forest School) and James W. Toumey (the school's first Morris K. Jesup Professor of Silviculture)\u2014 afforded forestry expertise after the turn of the century. It was not until 1917 that the department had the benefit of an in-house, credentialed forester. During an era of very limited departmental budget, Yale graduate and future forest ecologist Barrington Moore had been hired as assistant curator, and it was hoped that his experience would contribute to topical research and education at the institution.85 He was shortly called to service in the First World War, however, and by 1920 both he (for other opportunities) and Dickerson (for health reasons) had left the museum. This loss of expertise and energy only compounded the obstacles faced by the wood collection and related subjects that Jesup had promoted. As institutional memory of the collection's formation had been episodically lost since the turn of the century, and the collection's place of priority eroded after the death of its creator and benefactor, its fate became inexorably linked to that of the department going forward. An Old-Fashioned Systematic Arrangement Unlike other collections and exhibits prepared by the various dynamic and actively growing departments of the museum\u2014especially Mammalogy and Ornithology, Paleontology, and Anthropology\u2014the wood collection remained little changed from the 1910s through the 1930s. While the curatorship went unfilled, the Jesup Collection had a champion in museum director Frederic A. Lucas, who in 1922 wrote to President Osborn, \"It is extremely important that we should revive our forestry department, for its own sake and also in memory of Mr. Jesup.\"86 Following Lucas's death in 1929, George H. Sherwood, as museum director and curator of the Department of Education, became its defender. After his death eight years later, the scientific staff of the museum proposed that \"an attempt be made to place some one in charge of the wood collection.\"87 For another decade, the Department of Forestry and Conservation was again chaired and staffed by scientists borrowed from other departments, until a curator was hired for the position in 1946. In the meantime, the finished logs not only occupied an entire exhibit hall but myriad smaller duplicates and miscellaneous wood samples took up valuable storage space when lack of such space at the museum was a chronic problem. Discussions about disposing of the Jesup Collection began to stir at least as early as 1937, when museum director Roy C. Andrews (Sherwood's successor) had suggested that the collection be donated to the New York Botanical Garden \"or some other institution\" in order to create space for new exhibitions. In response, the museum's Council of the Scientific Staff resolved that the collection remained important scientifically as well as to the work of the Department of Education, and argued that to give away this \"superb gift\" could discourage other donations to the museum.88 When the question resurfaced in 1942 under the museum's new director, Albert E. Parr, calls to abandon the wood collection were again met with protest. Informal opinions attributed to the museum's Advisory Committee on Plan and Scope included regret \"that serious proposals have been made to burn up the collecJesup Collection 39 tion,\" and indicated a strong consensus that the museum had an obligation to find \"a satisfactory or a better home for it\" in order to avoid a \"gross\" breach of trust.89 Parr's plans for the museum were dampened during the ensuing years of the Second World War as the institution adjusted to extended absences among curatorial and administrative staff who had joined the armed forces, changes in visitation and patronage, curtailed research activity, and altered demands on the museum's technical and human resources.90 Following the war, Parr discussed the process of \"reconversion\" from the distorted wartime operations of the museum to a post-war vision for its future. He made it clear that he saw this process, both inevitable and necessary, as an opportunity to focus the museum's scope and actively integrate its research and educational activities across disciplines and into the wider landscape of public consciousness. He wanted to find alternatives to standard approaches to exhibition, where \"an old-fashioned systematic arrangement of specimens, unrelieved by an occasionally freer use of artistry, becomes dull and boring to the spectator.\"91 Abandoning staid practices was the foundation for planning the museum's \"program of modernization\" in the years to follow.92 In addition to its orphan status among the departments of the museum, there may have been no single display in the museum at that After more than sixty years on public display, the Jesup Collection was dismantled in Forestry Hall in 1948. AMNH RESEARCH LIBRARY DIGITAL SPECIAL COLLECTIONS, 2A1316 40 Arnoldia 78\/5-6 \u2022 October 2021 time that so epitomized a nineteenth-centurystyle exhibit than the Jesup Collection of North American Woods. Shortly after Parr became the museum's director in 1942, he initiated discussions with botanist Bror E. Dahlgren, once an assistant curator in the Department of Invertebrate Zoology at the museum, who since the 1920s had been affiliated with the Field Museum of Natural History in Chicago. Dahlgren was asked to reconsider how the subjects of forestry and conservation would be represented at the museum. Initially, his advice pertained to a rearrangement of the existing log specimens, \"to break up the single linear, traditional systematic arrangement,\" emphasizing instead the geographic distributions and associations of the many species represented. He envisioned this new scheme as representing the composition and structure of regional American forests, resulting in displays that were more like the dioramas familiar from the museum's zoological exhibits.93 Even with this new thinking toward repurposing the logs, however, the collection's future was not secure. In July 1946, botanist Henry K. Svenson became chair and curator of the reconstituted Department of Forestry and General Botany, which counted two other museum associates, Clarence Hay (anthropology) and Charles Russell (education), as its scientific staff. As a longtime consultant to the museum while a curator at the Brooklyn Botanic Garden, Svenson had AMNH RESEARCH LIBRARY DIGITAL SPECIAL COLLECTIONS, 322587 Artists create detailed replicas of trees for the Olympic Forest diorama during the renovation of the Forestry Hall in 1952. Jesup Collection 41 been designing a new forestry hall and began his tenure at the museum with a preliminary plan for the new exhibits. He recognized the historical importance of the wood collection as \"a heritage of the America that is past, and that our forests would no longer provide such a fine assemblage of material,\" and noted that it would \"become of greater and greater value as time goes on.\" At the same time, Svenson recognized that the future of the department would be a departure from its past. The emphasis of its work would not be on specimens, which would be kept \"behind the scenes,\" but on illustrating the integrated relationships and landscape processes represented by forest vegetation.94 Toward this end, the existing Hall of Forestry was closed on November 1, 1948, after which the exhibits were dismantled.95 As exhibits were revised, Parr explained in 1951 that the role of natural history museums in the progress of science had been evolving over the prior decade. There remained an abiding interest in individual organisms, which were the realm of basic research and a staple of the museum's scientific program. At the same time and increasingly, the museum identified new objectives for their work: understanding the interactions of organisms with their environment (their ecology) and recognizing the necessity for their conservation in nature. It was in these areas where Parr saw the museum's most critical educational mission.96 An early expression of this philosophy was the Felix M. Warburg Memorial Hall of Ecology. Occupying the space where the Jesup Collection had been exhibited, several new exhibits were intended to illustrate the ecosystems of New York State and how the human population influenced the landscape. Adjacent to this, in the southeast corner of the first floor (formerly known as Darwin Hall or the Hall of Invertebrate Zoology), the new Hall of North American Forests was unveiled on May 14, 1958, featuring life-sized dioramas of eleven forest types from across the continent. Where the hundreds of individual trunk segments, separate models of foliage and flowers, and illustrations that populated the former hall had left their forests of origin to the imagination of visitors, the new displays revealed integrated forest ecosystems, with characteristic herbaceous plants, animals, and physical elements (sunlight, water, soils) conspicuously represented in three dimensions. The focus of the new hall was on forests as habitats, the interrelationships among organisms that live in forested regions, and the importance of maintaining these ecosystems.97 Although the tree species themselves were no longer the raisons d'\u00eatre of the new exhibits, the new hall was, effectively, an embodiment of the ideals that its namesake had hoped to promote through the assembly of the original Jesup Collection. The new exhibits were met with admiration.98 Of all the pieces formerly on display, only the large cross-section of giant sequoia remained, as it does today. Meanwhile, as the penultimate step toward disposition, the woods had been officially designated a \"scientific storage collection\" in 1953, and the specimens were sequestered elsewhere in the museum.99 Ponderous and Not Easily Handled In September 1956, Parr ultimately succeeded in convincing the museum's Management Board that \"there was no probability of this material [the wood collection] ever being put to any real use by The American Museum of Natural History.\" He asked the board to approve the transfer of the Jesup Collection to the Smithsonian Institution, which he hoped \"would guarantee proper care and use of the material in accordance with the purposes for which it was collected.\"100 With the board's approval to pursue disposition, then-curator of the museum's Department of Vegetation Studies, Jack McCormick, initiated correspondence with the National Museum to effect this transfer. Because the Smithsonian was preoccupied with the construction of new buildings and other exhibits, these discussions proceeded intermittently over the next two years. The director of the Smithsonian's Museum of Natural History, Remington Kellogg, finally submitted a formal request to Parr in December 1957. His proposal outlined a dramatic new vision for the specimens: Our plans foresee the utilization of the collection in several ways. The large redwood, Sitka spruce, Douglas-fir, sugar pine, ponderosa pine, white pine, oak, walnut, and longleaf pine trunk 42 Arnoldia 78\/5-6 \u2022 October 2021 specimens are being considered in connection with exhibits, in the coming Museum of History and Technology, on early lumbering in the Northeast, the Lake States, the Central Hardwood Region, the Southern Pinery, the Pacific Northwest, and the California Redwood Region. A few of the other large specimens may possibly be halved lengthwise, one half being exhibited with tangentially and radially cut boards from the other half, and the remainder cut into study samples for distribution to educational institutions, colleges, universities, and museums. The remainder of the collection would eventually be cut into study samples for distribution as stated above. We would retain at least two specimens of each species that is cut.101 Parr expressed reticence toward the Smithsonian's plans to destroy the majority of the logs, but he was steadfast in his determination to relocate the huge collection.102 The museum's Board of Trustees approved the transfer at its April 1958 meeting.103 Despite this progress, the arrangements for the collection's transfer remained suspended for another two years. Parr retired, and James A. Oliver became the museum's new director in 1959. During this same time frame, both the directorship of the Smithsonian's Museum of Natural History and the curatorship of its Department of Botany (which included its wood collection) also changed. In 1960, William L. Stern became the Smithsonian's new curator of the Division of Woods. Stern, formerly the curator of the Samuel J. Record wood collection at Yale University, had earlier in that role declined the museum's offer of the Jesup Collection. He explained to McCormick, \"We refused on the grounds that the space needed for storage would be beyond our means, that many of the pieces were ponderous and not easily handled.\" At the Smithsonian, Stern was again faced with the prospect of acquiring the Jesup Collection. In January 1960, he noted to McCormick, \"If I had been Curator of the Division of Woods in the National Museum at the time the Jesup Collection was offered, I do not know how I would have reacted to the offer.\u2026 I just hope that there will be no restrictions on cutting the specimens and that there are no qualifications regarding the handling of the material once it is in the National Museum.\"104 Stern had expressed his opinion to the Smithsonian's new director of the Museum of Natural History, Albert C. Smith, that despite \"the historical importance and unique nature\" of the Jesup Collection, \"it would not greatly increase the usefulness of our present collections for anatomical study.\"105 In his correspondence with Oliver in June 1960, Smith explained, \"One of the problems that we both inherited, in connection with our new positions, concerns the Jesup Collection of Woods of the United States.\u2026 I am now in the embarrassing position of having to ask you to allow the Smithsonian Institution to reverse itself, as to acceptance of the Jesup Collection.\" 106 He indicated that although one or two of the monumental cross-sections might still be useful in their exhibits, the costs of relocation and the ever-present problem of storage were obstacles to their previously agreed-upon plans. Oliver, of course, was disappointed but acknowledged the Smithsonian's position.107 For the sake of the logs, it was certainly a fortuitous development: the very scope and volume of the collection that had inspired museum visitors had made it difficult to accommodate elsewhere, and just as onerous to cut up into tiny hand samples. These were only the first obstacles the museum encountered in its efforts to dispose of the Jesup Collection, but the reasons would not change going forward. McCormick next approached William C. Steere, director of the New York Botanical Garden. After initially suggesting that the garden could accept the Jesup Collection, however, the offer was declined later in 1961.108 Following McCormick's departure from the museum in August of that year, at which time the Department of Vegetation Studies disappeared forever, Oliver took up the cause himself. To an inquiry from Stanley A. Cain, of the University of Michigan School of Natural Resources, he wrote: \"This collection is really a very important one and it should be transferred to a single institution intact. The bulk of the collection is one of the big problems that hinders anyone from accepting it. However, there are no restrictions on it and the wood samples could easily be cut up for other institutions.\"109 This Jesup Collection 43 latest offer was not pursued. With essentially the same preamble, Oliver next approached the Field Museum of Natural History, but received no favorable reply.110 Happy to Turn it Over As Oliver's frustrated efforts began to resemble desperation, a promising inquiry arrived from the Pacific Northwest. Early in 1963, Oliver had spoken with a man named Lloyd S. Millegan, a retired public servant who lived in McMinnville, Oregon, and ran a small marquetry business, Lloyd's of Oregon, in nearby Portland. Millegan envisioned mounting a display of the logs at the New York World's Fair in 1964, then displaying the collection in Portland to generate publicity and business for his handicrafts. Having been unsuccessful in finding another museum to accept the collection, Oliver explained that the museum was \"eager\" and \"would be happy to turn it over to anyone who will undertake the cost of packing and transporting the entire collection from the museum to the new location.\" He emphasized that \"the entire collection be taken in its entirety because we have no personnel to dispose of it properly piecemeal.\" 111 When another group, coincidentally also in Portland, inquired about the collection later that year, Oliver asked Millegan to submit a formal offer indicating his intentions and to confirm that the collection would be removed by February 1964.112 While Oliver awaited word from Millegan, he continued to entertain correspondence with Aldred A. Heckman, director of the Louis W. and Maud Hill Family Foundation in St. Paul, Minnesota. Through the common acquaintance of William Steere at the New York Botanical Garden, the Hill Family Foundation had been in discussions with the Gallery of Trees Committee, a group of industry and civic leaders as well as forestry professionals, about assisting them in acquiring the Jesup Collection for their museum in Portland. Heckman explained, \"There is real interest in having the Collection in Portland.\" He emphasized that there was both local expertise available to prepare and interpret the proposed exhibit, as well as an audience already interested in trees and forestry attending the existing forestry museum. Further, the City of Portland and the Oregon Museum of Science and Industry had indicated willingness to participate in structuring the acquisition.113 Steere himself wrote to Heckman, \"Naturally I am deeply grateful to you for your personal interest in seeing that an exhibit of national importance is not reduced to veneer or small samples\u2014or ashes.\"114 At an early meeting in January 1964, the Gallery of Trees Committee proceeded to address questions about transportation of the collection and the siting, design, and construction of a new building to house it. The Hill Family Foundation offered to defray the costs of transporting the collection to Portland, provided that it be publicly owned and exhibited. The City of Portland's Park Bureau and the Oregon Museum of Science and Industry were identified as the preferred partners.115 Whether it had intended to or not, the meeting illustrated the contrast between the committee's plans, for which the organizers could demonstrate institutional, technical, intellectual, and financial support, and those of Millegan, whose intentions had not addressed any of the real practicalities involved with adopting these specimens. Both the Gallery of Trees Committee and the Hill Family Foundation had been surprised to learn of Millegan's prior claim, but their strong interest in obtaining the logs for Portland's museum compelled them to include him in their discussions. Millegan was asked to explain his relationship to the collection. The meeting minutes recorded: \"He asked for it not knowing then what could be done with it. His offer was accepted.\u2026 [He] said he had no deed for the collection, merely a letter saying he could have it.\"116 He was asked what conditions he would place on forfeiting his \"claim\" to the collection so that the committee could proceed. Millegan stipulated first that the collection should be freely accessible and well presented; beyond that, he wanted to use the exhibit to educate visitors about marquetry and its use of various woods, and to display his marquetry products alongside the exhibit.117 At this time, Heckman indicated to Oliver that there would be no further discussion among the foundation and the entities in Portland until Millegan's position was clarified. He concluded, \"It seemed 44 Arnoldia 78\/5-6 \u2022 October 2021 to me that we were rapidly getting to the point of having too many cooks as far as the North American Woods Collection is concerned.\"118 The chair of the Gallery of Trees Committee, Thornton T. Munger, addressed Oliver shortly after the meeting, indicating that the committee was \"impatient\" to understand where they stood in relation to Millegan's plans to acquire the collection.119 Heckman soon wrote to Oliver, as well, reinforcing the message of progress that had been made toward planning for the collection's move to Portland under the assumption that Millegan would cede the collection. He added, \"We thought that if funds were assured to cover the costs of transporting the Collection to Portland and preparing it for display, the decisions regarding these other matters would be made with reasonable speed. This is as far as we can go. The next steps will have to be taken in Portland.\"120 Millegan subsequently contacted the committee to revise his terms for relinquishing his claim to the collection, introducing the demand that he be allowed \"to operate in the exhibit area a concession where selected gift and educational items in wood could be purchased.\" The committee's chair, Munger, was a retired forester of long tenure in the U.S. Forest Service whose career and research had been devoted to developing methods for sustainable forestry and conservation. He and the Gallery of Trees Committee envisioned a much broader mission for the collection, that it would illustrate the forest resources of the country for the benefit of public education. Neither the committee, nor the City of Portland, nor the Hill Family Foundation approved of the idea of using the collection to support a commercial enterprise, which in terms of the proposed new building would also be prohibited by city ordinance.121 Although the committee was at an impasse as the negotiations stretched into April, May, and June, Munger had continued to plan as though a compromise would eventually be reached.122 After hearing again from Munger following a meeting in May, Oliver decided to finally draw the matter to a close. He informed Millegan in June, \"You have repeatedly stated that you were interested in acquiring this collection and were given several deadlines for the acquisition of the collection.\u2026 I think we have been exceedingly patient in waiting for you to fulfill your intentions. Therefore, your option to the collection has been withdrawn and we shall seek to dispose of the collection through other channels.\" 123 Oliver notified Munger of the transaction and renewed his offer to the Gallery of Trees Committee, with the only requirement being \"that we hope it will be exhibited for the benefit of the public and will be available to students for study.\" He urged that the collection be transferred by September 1.124 The Gallery of Trees Committee was relieved, the Hill Family Foundation was satisfied, and the City Council and Oregon Museum of Science and Industry all agreed that the collection would finally belong to Portland. In the meantime, the Gallery of Trees Committee had reached a consensus about the location for the new exhibit. Rather than constructing a new building, the Jesup Collection could be displayed on the unoccupied second story of the old Forestry Building, a stupendous log structure that had been built in northwest Portland for the Lewis and Clark Centennial Exposition of 1905. The main floor was already in use as a museum of forestry and the logging industry, and it was thought that the log specimens would complement these exhibits. Because the aging balconies required engineering changes to accommodate the collection, the committee intended to store the collection once it arrived in Portland while funding was raised for the renovations.125 Just a month after the final July meeting that approved of these plans, tragedy swept them all aside. A fire started in the office of the Forestry Building on the evening of August 17 and rapidly spread to the entire structure. The next morning, Munger observed the smoldering remains, which included the entire contents of the city's forestry museum that he had helped to oversee.126 By 1971, when the new Western Forestry Center building opened, the story of the calamity in the museum's own informational materials had come to include the Jesup Collection and its miraculous escape of this fate by having still been in storage in Portland.127 Twenty years after the fire, the story read: \"When the old log museum burned in August Jesup Collection 45 1964, two box cars full of the Jesup collection had just arrived. Sidetracked and waiting to be unloaded, the collection narrowly missed destruction in the fire. The exhibit then was stored by the city until the new forestry center opened in June 1971.\"128 In fact, the Jesup Collection had still been safely in New York. Munger wrote to Oliver just days after the fire, expressing the committee's sadness at the loss and explaining its plans to rebuild. He noted, \"It is very fortunate that the Jesup Collection was not there.\"129 At the museum, Oliver and his staff were solidifying plans for an early October moving day. The Santini Brothers moving company was contracted to pack and transport the collection.130 On October 6, 1964, the specimens departed the museum aboard three moving vans destined for Portland, Oregon (the surviving paperwork gives no indication that railroad cars were employed).131 How they were stored once they arrived there is not recorded, but it is possible that the Gallery of Trees Committee took advantage of one of the offers for local warehouse space that had been made during their planning process.132 The Jesup Collection would not be put on display for nearly seven more years while a new building was constructed, but that building promised to include dedicated space for the logs. At the new Western Forestry Center, which opened in June 1971 in Washington Park, west of downtown Portland, the Jesup Collection In 1971, the Jesup Collection of Woods reopened in a new home at the Western Forestry Center in Portland, Oregon. ARCHIVES OF THE ARNOLD ARBORETUM 46 Arnoldia 78\/5-6 \u2022 October 2021 was \"the background theme that links together feature displays at the Forestry Center. Some of the largest logs are stationed at the entrance and around the outdoor covered walkway; inside, smaller specimens circle the first-floor display room. Other logs fill corners and file along corridors.\" 133 Following their move, the logs had been cleaned, refinished, and given new labels by local members of the Society of American Foresters and the International Wood Collectors Society. The historical value of the 505 logs said to be on display, representing trees of such stature that in many cases could no longer be observed in the United States, was well appreciated, and the collection remained a popular exhibit.134 As the Western Forestry Center expanded its educational mission and shifted its focus to forests at a global scale, taking on the name World Forestry Center in 1986, the collection's relevance was again eclipsed by its physical footprint. About January 1994, the collection was donated to Agricenter International in Memphis, Tennessee.135 Although exhibited there for several years, the logs have since spent more than two decades in storage. A Heritage Following Jesup's death, Sargent reflected, \"The formation of the Jesup collection of North American Woods \u2026 was a matter of national importance. The preparation of this collection enabled us to study the distribution of the economic value of many trees which, before Mr. Jesup's undertaking, were largely unknown. I think it can be said that this collection is the finest representation of forest wealth that exists in any country.\"136 In its time on exhibit, the collection was marveled at by audiences for more than eighty years altogether. It provided not only Jesup and Sargent but some early influencers of American forestry\u2014including Heinrich Mayr, Carl A. Schenck, Gifford Pinchot, Bernhard E. Fernow, Barrington Moore, and later even Thornton Munger\u2014with inspiration and a platform to promote a growing movement supporting the conservation of American forests. What the logs represent has not changed, and their historical significance has only grown. Apart from the varied circumstances leading to their assembly in New York from all across North America, as a group the collection has twice crossed the country; it has evaded annihilation more than once, each time saved by wellmeaning caretakers facing formidable logistical challenges. More than 120 years since the consolidation of the collection, although many of the logs are superficially weathered and show wear and tear from handling and the elements, their number is mainly intact. The wood itself has largely not suffered and will be restorable in some future, truly permanent, home. Research to document the geographic origins of individual logs is ongoing; these findings will enable many of them to retake their scientific potential, where study of the wood itself may contribute meaningfully to the knowledge of our environmental past. All of them may yet function as emissaries for their species and for the forested regions from which they came\u2014 possibly even more so today than at the time of the collection's unveiling, when many contemporaries believed that such trees would be lost from America's forests in time, even as forests generally were disappearing, and that such a collection could never again be made.137 Acknowledgments This research was supported in part by a 2019 Sargent Award for Visiting Scholars from the Arnold Arboretum of Harvard University. For their assistance, the author is grateful to the curators of the Harvard University Herbaria; Lisa Pearson at the Arnold Arboretum; Rebecca Morgan and Gregory Raml at the Archives of the American Museum of Natural History; Alex Wiedenhoeft and Regis Miller at the USDA Forest Products Laboratory, Madison, Wisconsin; John Butler and John Charles Wilson at Agricenter International, Memphis, Tennessee; and Mark Reed, Beavercreek, Oregon. Notes 1 A Noble Gift, Sun (New York), 17 May 1885, p.8. 2 American Woods, Harper's Weekly 29(30 May 1885), p.350. 3 Brewer, 1877: 4. 4 Norton, 1879: 110. 5 A. S. Bickmore to C. S. Sargent, 12 Sep 1880, Letterpress Books, 3a: 273, AMNH. 6 Joseph H. Choate, in Hovey 1907: 5. 7 C. S. Sargent to M. K. Jesup, 2 Nov 1885, Departmental Records, 091, Ser. I, AMNH. 8 C. S. Sargent to M. K. Jesup, 11 Nov 1880, Departmental Records, 091, Ser. I, AMNH. 9 Trustees of the American Museum of Natural History 1881. 10 C. S. Sargent to M. K. Jesup, 14 Dec 1880; C. S. Sargent to J. J. Bargin, 20 Apr 1881, Departmental Records, 091, Ser. I, AMNH. Jesup Collection 47 11 M. K. Jesup to C. S. Sargent, 12 Mar 1881, Letterpress Books, 4: 19, AMNH. 12 A. S. Bickmore to C. S. Sargent, 29 Jun 1881, Letterpress Books, 4: 55; C. S. Sargent to M. K. Jesup, 5 Jul 1882, Departmental Records, 091, Ser. I, AMNH. 13 M. K. Jesup to C. S. Sargent, 1 Sep 1881, Letterpress Books, 4: 80, AMNH. 14 M. K. Jesup to A. S. Bickmore, 1 Sep 1881, Letterpress Books, 4: 82, AMNH. 15 C. S. Sargent to M. K. Jesup, 25 Apr 1881, Departmental Records, 091, Ser. I, AMNH. 16 C. S. Sargent to M. K. Jesup, 18 Feb 1896, Departmental Records, 091, Ser. I, AMNH. 17 C. S. Sargent to M. K. Jesup, 20 Aug 1881, Departmental Records, 091, Ser. I, AMNH. 18 C. S. Sargent to M. K. Jesup, 25 Apr 1881, Departmental Records, 091, Ser. I, AMNH. 19 M. K. Jesup to C. S. Sargent, 21 Jun 1882, Letterpress Books, 4: 277; J. J. Bargin to M. L. Saley, 3 Mar 1886, Letterpress Books, 9: 83, AMNH. 20 C. S. Sargent to M. K. Jesup, 2 Nov 1885, Departmental Records, 091, Ser. I, AMNH. 21 C. S. Sargent to M. K. Jesup, 25 Apr 1881, Departmental Records, 091, Ser. I; A. S. Bickmore to C. S. Sargent, 17 Aug 1881, Letterpress Books, 4: 73, AMNH. 22 C. S. Sargent to J. H. Winser, 17 Jun 1899, Departmental Records, 091, Ser. I, AMNH. 23 M. K. Jesup to C. S. Sargent, 28 Apr 1881, Letterpress Books, 4: 35, AMNH. 24 Sargent, 1884. 25 A. S. Bickmore to C. S. Sargent, 3 Dec 1881, Letterpress Books, 5: 50, AMNH. 26 J. J. Bargin to C. S. Sargent, 10 Apr 1882, Letterpress Books, 4: 235, AMNH. 27 Osborn, 1911. 28 The Woods of America\u2014A Great Collection of 394 Specimens, New York Times, 22 Oct 1882, p.13. 29 A. S. Bickmore to C. S. Sargent, 17 Aug 1881, Letterpress Books, 4: 72, AMNH. 30 S. D. Dill to M. K. Jesup, 8 Nov 1882; C. S. Sargent to M. K. Jesup, 1 Jun 1884, Departmental Records, 091, Ser. I, AMNH. 31 J. H. Winser to M. K. Jesup, 26 Jan 1899, Departmental Records, 091, Ser. I, AMNH. 32 C. S. Sargent to M. K. Jesup, 9 May 1882, Departmental Records, 091, Ser. I; M. K. Jesup to C. S. Sargent, 16 May 1882, Letterpress Books, 4: 250, AMNH. 33 Osborn, 1911: 19. 34 S. D. Dill to J. J. Bargin, 24 Oct 1882, Departmental Records, 091, Ser. I, AMNH. 35 C. Vaux to Department of Public Parks, 13 Nov 1882, Early Admin Files, CN1739, AMNH. 36 C. S. Sargent to M. K. Jesup, 1 Nov 1882, Departmental Records, 091, Ser. I, AMNH. 37 Trustees of the American Museum of Natural History 1883: 6. 38 American Wood Specimens: Mr. Jesup's Present to the Museum of Natural History, New York Times, 26 Dec 1883, p.8. 39 C. S. Sargent to M. K. Jesup, 15 Feb 1884, Departmental Records, 091, Ser. I, AMNH. 40 C. S. Sargent to M. K. Jesup, 30 Apr 1884; C. S. Sargent to A. S. Bickmore, 7 Jun 1884, Departmental Records, 091, Ser. I, AMNH. 41 Bickmore, 1885: 778-779. 42 Sargent, 1885. 43 C. S. Sargent to M. K. Jesup, 26 Apr 1885, Departmental Records, 091, Ser. I, AMNH. 44 Jesup, 1885: 6-7. 45 A Noble Gift, Sun (New York), 17 May 1885, p.8. 46 American Woods, Harper's Weekly 29(30 May 1885), p.350. 47 The Jesup Collection\u2014All the Woods of the United States, Formal Opening To-day at the Museum of Natural History, New York Times, 18 May 1885, p.1. 48 J. J. Bargin to M. K. Jesup, 9 Oct 1885, Departmental Records, 091, Ser. I, AMNH. 49 C. S. Sargent to M. K. Jesup, 13 Oct 1885, Departmental Records, 091, Ser. I, AMNH. 50 C. S. Sargent to M. K. Jesup, 13 Oct 1885, Departmental Records, 091, Ser. I, AMNH. 51 An Interesting Collection\u2014Mr. Jesup's Gift to the American Museum of Natural History, New York Times, 16 Nov 1890, p.9; Sargent 1890b; Jesup 1891. 52 C. S. Sargent to M. K. Jesup, 9 Jun 1891, Departmental Records, 091, Ser. I, AMNH. 53 Jesup, 1894. 54 C. S. Sargent to M. K. Jesup, 2 Jan 1895, Departmental Records, 091, Ser. I, AMNH. 55 M. K. Jesup to C. S. Sargent, 17 Jan 1895, Departmental Records, 091, Ser. I, AMNH. 56 J. H. Winser to M. K. Jesup, 23 Jan 1895, Departmental Records, 091, Ser. I, AMNH. 57 Extract of Minutes, Regular Meeting of the Exectutive Committee, 20 Dec 1895, Central Archives, 1203, AMNH. 58 Jesup, 1896: 14. 59 Jesup, 1898, 1899, 1907. 60 C. S. Sargent to M. K. Jesup, 6 Apr 1881, Departmental Records, 091, Ser. I, AMNH. 61 C. S. Sargent to M. K. Jesup, 19 Feb 1886, Departmental Records, 091, Ser. I, AMNH. 62 C. S. Sargent to M. K. Jesup, 11 May 1887, Early Admin Files, CN2169, AMNH. 63 C. S. Sargent to B. Strong, 12 Feb 1889, Departmental Records, 091, Ser. I, AMNH. 64 Extract of Minutes, Regular Meeting of the Exectutive Committee, 19 Jan 1894, Central Archives, 1203, AMNH. 65 C. S. Sargent to M. K. Jesup, 13 Sep 1894, Departmental Records, 091, Ser. I, AMNH. 66 C. S. Sargent to J. H. Winser, 21 Apr 1898, Departmental Records, 091, Ser. I, AMNH. 67 C. S. Sargent to J. H. Winser, 29 May 1900, Early Admin Files, CN3540, AMNH. 68 C. S. Sargent to J. H. Winser, 26 Oct 1901, Departmental Records, 091, Ser. I, AMNH. 69 C. S. Sargent to J. H. Winser, 7 Jun 1899, Departmental Records, 091, Ser. I, AMNH. 70 C. S. Sargent to J. H. Winser, 7 May 1898, Departmental Records, 091, Ser. I, AMNH. 71 C. S. Sargent to J. H. Winser, 1 Nov 1898, Departmental Records, 091, Ser. I, AMNH. 72 C. S. Sargent to J. H. Winser, 4 Dec 1901, Departmental Records, 091, Ser. I, AMNH. 73 C. S. Sargent to J. H. Winser, 23 Jul 1902, Departmental Records, 091, Ser. I, AMNH. 74 Osborn, 1909. 48 Arnoldia 78\/5-6 \u2022 October 2021 75 C. S. Sargent to M. K. Jesup, 6 Oct 1885, Departmental Records, 091, Ser. I, AMNH. 76 C. S. Sargent to M. K. Jesup, 7 Jan 1899, Departmental Records, 091, Ser. I, AMNH. 77 H. C. Bumpus to C. S. Sargent, 14 Oct 1903, Departmental Records, 091, Ser. I, AMNH. 78 H. C. Bumpus to H. H. Kopman, 28 Oct 1904, Departmental Records, 091, Ser. I, AMNH. 79 Osborn, 1908. 80 Osborn, 1910. 81 Dickerson, 1910. 82 Osborn, 1910: 41. 83 Osborn, 1911: 118. 84 Dickerson, 1912. 85 Dickerson, 1917. 86 H. F. Osborn to F.A. Lucas, 11 Dec 1922, Central Archives, 777, AMNH. 87 H. E. Anthony, Meeting Minutes, p.88, Council of the Scientific Staff, 4 Oct 1937, Departmental Records, 086, AMNH. 88 H. E. Anthony, Meeting Minutes, pp.88-89, Council of the Scientific Staff, 4 Oct 1937, Departmental Records, 086, AMNH. 89 Papers presented by the Advisory Committee on Plan and Scope, 6 May 1942, Central Archives, 1232, AMNH. 90 Parr, 1943. 91 Parr, 1946: 13. 92 Davison, 1946: 4. 93 B. E. Dahlgren to A. E. Parr, 6 Jul 1943, Central Archives, 1203, AMNH. 94 H. K. Svenson, Report: Department of Forestry and General Botany, 1947, Departmental Records, 091, Ser. IV, AMNH. 95 AMNH Department of Education Division of Publications 1949. 96 Parr, 1943, 1951. 97 Burns, 1958. 98 Museum Opening Hall of Forests, by S. Knox, New York Times, 14 May 1958, p.35. 99 A. E. Parr, Report of the Management Board, Special Meeting of the Board of Trustees, 20 Apr 1953, Central Archives, 1118, AMNH. 100 Extract of Minutes, Management Board Meeting, 27 Sep 1956, Central Archives, 1203, AMNH. 101 R. Kellogg to A. E. Parr, 19 Dec 1957, Central Archives, 1203, AMNH. 102 A. E. Parr to R. Kellogg, 26 Dec 1957, Central Archives, 1203, AMNH. 103 Extract of Minutes, Spring Meeting of the Board of Trustees, 28 Apr 1958, Central Archives, 1117, AMNH. 104 W. L. Stern to J. McCormick, 15 Jan 1960, Central Archives, 1203, AMNH. 105 A. C. Smith to J. A. Oliver, 24 Jun 1960, Departmental Records, 125, Ser. I, AMNH. 106 A. C. Smith to J. A. Oliver, 24 Jun 1960, Departmental Records, 125, Ser. I, AMNH. 107 J. A. Oliver to A. C. Smith, 5 Jul 1960, Departmental Records, 125, Ser. I, AMNH. 108 J. McCormick to J. A. Oliver, 20 Jun 1961, Central Archives, 1203, AMNH. 109 J. A. Oliver to S. A. Cain, 26 Dec 1961, Departmental Records, 125, Ser. I, AMNH. 110 J. A. Oliver to J. Millar, 26 Dec 1961, Departmental Records, 125, Ser. I, AMNH. 111 J. A. Oliver to L. S. Millegan, 19 Feb 1963, Departmental Records, 125, Ser. I, AMNH. 112 J. A. Oliver to L. S. Millegan, 15 Nov 1963, Departmental Records, 125, Ser. I, AMNH. 113 A. A. Heckman to J. A. Oliver, 15 Jan 1964, Departmental Records, 125, Ser. I, AMNH. 114 W. C. Steere to A. A. Heckman, 17 Jan 1964, Departmental Records, 125, Ser. I, AMNH. 115 Minutes of Meeting to Discuss Prospects of Getting for Portland the Jesup Collection of Woods, 15 Jan 1964, Departmental Records, 125, Ser. I, AMNH. 116 Minutes of Meeting to Discuss Prospects of Getting for Portland the Jesup Collection of Woods, 15 Jan 1964, Departmental Records, 125, Ser. I, AMNH. 117 Minutes of Meeting to Discuss Prospects of Getting for Portland the Jesup Collection of Woods, 15 Jan 1964, Departmental Records, 125, Ser. I, AMNH. 118 A. A. Heckman to J. A. Oliver, 15 Jan 1964, Departmental Records, 125, Ser. I, AMNH. 119 T. T. Munger to J. A. Oliver, 17 Feb 1964, Departmental Records, 125, Ser. I, AMNH. 120 A. A. Heckman to J. A. Oliver, 20 Feb 1964, Departmental Records, 125, Ser. I, AMNH. 121 T. T. Munger to J. A. Oliver, 14 Apr 1964, Departmental Records, 125, Ser. I, AMNH. 122 Minutes of Meeting of Committee on the Jesup Collection of Wood, 29 May 1964, Departmental Records, 125, Ser. I, AMNH. 123 J. A. Oliver to L. S. Millegan, 24 Jun 1964, Departmental Records, 125, Ser. I, AMNH. 124 J. A. Oliver to T. T. Munger, 24 Jun 19","distinct_key":"arnoldia-2021-Such a Fine Assemblage: The Jesup Collection of North American Woods"},{"has_event_date":0,"type":"arnoldia","title":"Such a Fine Assemblage: The Jesup Collection of North American Woods","article_sequence":7,"start_page":24,"end_page":49,"url":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/\/action\/directLinkImage?assetId=25742","featured_photo":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/servlet\/display?file=b34509f9d4e0d160af27.jpg","volume":78,"issue_number":"5-6","year":2021,"series":null,"season":null,"authors":"Mauz, Kathryn","article_content":"64, Departmental Records, 125, Ser. I, AMNH. 125 Statement to the City Council of Portland regarding transfer of the Jesup Collection to the Oregon Museum of Science and Industry, 14 Jul 1964, Departmental Records, 125, Ser. I, AMNH. 126 Curator Watches as Embers of History Linger On\u2014 Oregon Logging Associates Consider Plans to Restore Forestry Building, Oregonian, 19 Aug 1964, p.1. 127 Press release: Jesup Wood Collection, Western Forestry Center, Portland, Ore., ca. 1971, I G 9.1 WUS: Woods of the United States Exhibit Records, AA. 128 Jesup Wood Collection historic, enduring exhibit, by J. Sansregret, Oregonian, 28 Sep 1984, p.D7. 129 T. T. Munger to J. A. Oliver, 22 Aug 1964, Departmental Records, 125, Ser. I, AMNH. 130 P. H. Grouleff to J. A. Oliver, 29 Sep 1964, Departmental Records, 125, Ser. I, AMNH. 131 Bill of Lading and Freight Bill, United Van Lines, 6 Oct 1964, Central Archives, 1203, AMNH. 132 T. T. Munger to J. A. Oliver, 2 Jul 1964, Departmental Records, 125, Ser. I, AMNH. 133 Sansregret, 1984: 50. 134 Reed, 1987. 135 Meeting minutes, 25 Jan 1994, Agricenter International (Memphis, Tennessee). 136 Brown, 1910: 165-166. 137 The Woods of America\u2014A Great Collection of 394 Specimens, New York Times, 22 Oct 1882, p.13; Sargent 1890a. Jesup Collection 49 Primary Sources Archival resources have been used with permission and are housed at the Archives of the Arnold Arboretum of Harvard University, Boston [AA]; the American Museum of Natural History Research Library Archives, New York [AMNH]; and elsewhere as indicated. Published Sources Cited AMNH Department of Education Division of Publications. 1949. General guide to the exhibition halls of the American Museum of Natural History. Science Guide 118 (5th ed.). American Museum of Natural History. Brewer, W. H. 1877. General report of the judges of Group VI and report on awards. Pages 1-50 in: Walker, F. A. (Ed.), Reports and awards, Group VI. United States Centennial Commission. J. B. Lippincott & Co. Brown, W. A. 1910. Morris Ketchum Jesup, a character sketch. Charles Scribner's Sons. Burns, W. A. (Ed.). 1958. General guide to the American Museum of Natural History. Science Guide 118 (revised ed.). American Museum of Natural History, Man and Nature Publications. Davison, F. T. 1946. Seventy-seventh report of the President. Annual Report of the American Museum of Natural History, 77: 1-6. Dickerson, M. C. 1910. Trees and forestry: An elementary treatment of the subject based on the Jesup Collection of North American Woods in the American Museum of Natural History. Guide Leaflet 32. American Museum of Natural History. Dickerson, M. C. (Ed.). 1912. Museum notes. American Museum Journal, 12: 35-40. Dickerson, M. C. (Ed.). 1917. Museum notes. American Museum Journal, 17: 76-80. Hovey, E. O. (Ed.). 1907. Introduction: Pioneers of American science: An account of the exercises held and the addresses delivered at the American Museum of Natural History, December 29, 1906. Guide Leaflet 25. American Museum Journal, 7(Supplement): 3-7. Jesup, M. K. 1891. Twenty-second annual report. Annual Report of the Trustees of the American Museum of Natural History ... for the Year 1890-91: 7-13. Jesup, M. K. 1894. Twenty-fifth annual report. Annual Report of the President of the American Museum of Natural History ... for the Year 1893: 7-15. Jesup, M. K. 1896. Twenty-seventh annual report. Annual Report of the President, Act of Incorporation, Contract with the Department of Public Parks, Constitution, By-laws and List of Members for the Year 1895: 7-23. Jesup, M. K. 1898. Twenty-ninth annual report. Annual Report of the President of the American Museum of Natural History ... for the Year 1897: 9-27. Jesup, M. K. 1899. Thirtieth annual report. Annual Report of the President of the American Museum of Natural History ... for the Year 1898: 9-26. Jesup, M. K. 1907. Thirty-eighth annual report. Annual Report of the President of the American Museum of Natural History ... for the Year 1906: 11-34. Norton, F. H. 1879. Illustrated historical register of the Centennial Exhibition, Philadelphia, 1876, and the Exposition Universelle, Paris, 1878. The American News Co. Osborn, H. F. 1908. Thirty-ninth annual report. Annual Report of the American Museum of Natural History, 39: 15-48. Osborn, H. F. 1909. Fortieth annual report. Annual Report of the American Museum of Natural History, 40: 15-42. Osborn, H. F. 1910. Forty-first annual report. Annual Report of the American Museum of Natural History, 41: 15-51. Osborn, H. F. (Ed.). 1911. The American Museum of Natural History: Its origin, its history, the growth of its departments to December 31, 1909 (2nd ed.). New York: The Irving Press. Parr, A. E. 1943. The year's work. Annual Report of the American Museum of Natural History, 74: 5-21. Parr, A. E. 1946. In transition. Annual Report of the American Museum of Natural History, 77: 7-21. Parr, A. E. 1951. Purposes and progress report of the Director. Annual Report of the American Museum of Natural History, 82: 7-36. Reed, M. 1987. The Jesup Collection of Woods. Forest World Magazine, 3(1): 7-11. Sansregret, J. 1984. A history in wood. American Forests Magazine, 90(9): 50. Sargent, C. S. 1884. Report on the forests of North America (exclusive of Mexico). Tenth United States Census, vol. 9. Census Office, Department of the Interior. Government Printing Office. Sargent, C. S. 1885. American Museum of Natural History Jesup Collection: The woods of the United States. D. Appleton and Co. (John Wilson and Son). Sargent, C. S. 1890a. Recent publications: The forests of North America, I. Garden and Forest, 3: 193-194. Sargent, C. S. (Ed.). 1890b. The Jesup Collection of the Woods of the United States. Garden and Forest, 3: 570. Trustees of the American Museum of Natural History. 1881. Twelfth annual report. Annual Report of the American Museum of Natural History, 12: 5-12. Trustees of the American Museum of Natural History. 1883. Fourteenth annual report. Annual Report of the American Museum of Natural History, 14: 5-10. Kathryn Mauz writes from Colorado. Previous publications include a 2018 book on Jesup collector Cyrus Pringle: C. G. Pringle: Botanist, Traveler, and the \"Flora of the Pacific Slope\" (1881-1884).lants imported from Europe and farther afield. William Jr. and his son William Robert Prince took up the cause of identifying and describing plant material so that it could be offered to the public\u2014and they were highly invested in acquiring newly introduced species. In 1804, for instance, Meriwether Lewis and William Clark embarked upon the Missouri River to explore the recently acquired Louisiana Purchase. The expedition had been commissioned at Jefferson's request, and when the explorers returned east, they came bearing seeds and other botanical collections. The Princes were among the first nursery operators to grow and distribute plants from the expedition, and the Oregon grape holly (Mahonia aquifolium) became one of their most successful new products. The Princes were also among the first American nurseries to offer ornamental species from East Asia, like the golden rain tree (Koelreuteria paniculata), lacebark elm (Ulmus parvifolia), and Chinese wisteria (Wisteria sinensis). By the mid-1830s, William Jr. had ten nursery outbuildings, of which several were greenhouses that contained tropical and subtropical plants from Africa and Asia. Visitors could pay an admission fee to experience the warmth and humidity of the greenhouse\u2014a rewarding respite to escape the dark, cold New York winter. The nursery catalogue listed ten tropical hibiscuses (Hibiscus) and two gardenias (Gardenia) that bloomed in their greenhouses. Prince grew tropical fruits and flowers specifically for winter viewing. For variety, they also exhibited insectivorous plants such as sundew (Drosera), pitcher plant (Sarracenia), and Venus flytrap (Dionaea). Moreover, in 1833, The New-York Annual Register reported that the gardens and nursery covered up to forty In 1793, William Prince Jr. purchased twenty-four acres alongside the original nursery, naming the new property the Linnaean Botanic Garden and Nursery. In the decades to come, a cohort of nurseries would open in Flushing, including Parsons Nursery and Bloodgood Nursery, both mapped nearby in 1841. SMITH, 1841\/LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, GEOGRAPHY AND MAP DIVISION ies cultivated in America, other than apples. (While the father and son intended to treat apple cultivation with a third volume, the work was never published.) Like A Short Treatise on Horticulture, this book was widely read in America and became influential among aspiring horticulturalists. Moreover, the Princes paid particular attention to the nomenclature of the fruits covered in all of the publications, untangling confusion occurring in the field. This interest in the accurate classification of horticultural plants began with the work of William Sr., and it was among the family's most significant contributions to American horticulture. As a testament to William Jr.'s interest in classification, he displayed in his home a bust of Carl Linnaeus, the Swedish botanist who formalized the modern system of botanical nomenclature. William Jr. received the statue in a presentation by New York governor DeWitt Clinton at a meeting of European and American scientists to honor Linnaeus's birthday in 1823. A simultaneous celebration in Virginia was officiated by Thomas Jefferson, an honorary member of the Linnaean Society of Paris. By the time William Jr. died in 1842, Flushing had become a vibrant center for American horticulture. Bloodgood Nursery had been established there in 1798 and would become known as a specialist in maples. (A common Japanese maple even bears the name of the nursery: Acer palmatum 'Bloodgood'.) G. R. Garretson Nursery, a seed company specializing in flowers and vegetables, was established in 1836 and would grow to cover one hundred acres, supplying wholesale seeds to nurseries across the United States and offering retail via mail order. But the most famous of these newer operations was Parsons Nursery, established in 1838; the Parsons family would later play a central role in introducing plants from East Asia, especially Japan. Meanwhile, William Robert had been assuming increasing responsibility for the Linnaean Botanic Garden and Nurseries. In the 1820s, he expanded the nursery, purchasing three large parcels so that his land holdings may have totaled up to 113 acres. These properties were located adjacent to a house he bought for himself in 1827. The home had a wide center hall, \u222b 20 Arnoldia 78\/5-6 \u2022 October 2021 acres and contained approximately ten thousand species of trees and plants, with particular attention devoted to grapes and mulberry trees. Visitors had free access to the outdoor gardens every day, except for Sundays. At the same time, the commercial operations of the nursery expanded rapidly, as evidenced by William Jr.'s increasingly thicker plant catalogues. He also began to subdivide the products among smaller specialized catalogues. In addition to his standard Annual Catalogue for Fruit and Ornamental Trees and Plants, which covered his earlier offerings, he began to issue catalogues that focused on items such as bulbous flowers and tubers, greenhouse plants, chrysanthemums, and vegetable and flower seeds. William Jr. attracted additional attention in 1828 when he published one of the first strictly horticultural books to come from the United States: A Short Treatise on Horticulture: Embracing Descriptions of a Great Variety of Fruit and Ornamental Trees and Shrubs, Grape Vines, Bulbous Flowers, Green-House Trees and Plants, &c. The book described all the plant offerings at the Linnaean Botanic Garden and Nursery, in some sense serving as an extended advertisement. The treatise also comprehensively covered horticultural topics, such as planting, pruning, and propagation. It even included information about soil preferences and methods for fungal disease control. Over the next three years, William Jr. worked with his son, William Robert, on two additional books, for which his son was the primary author. The first, A Treatise on the Vine, was published in 1830 and was the first significant book written in America on grape cultivation. The Princes had systematically tested scores of European grape varieties (Vitis vinifera), along with improved varieties of native North American grapes (like V. labrusca and V. riparia), and interspecific hybrids. The book described over two hundred European grape varieties and eighty American. This work helped to establish viticulture as a fullfledged branch of American horticulture, and for William Robert, grape breeding and cultivation remained a lifelong interest. The second book, The Pomological Manual, published in 1831, was a two-volume cyclopedia that attempted to catalogue all fruit varietwith two solid Dutch doors on either end and a bust of Linnaeus (likely from his father) on a bracket against the wall. The house's formal gardens contained two ginkgos (Ginkgo biloba), which were among the oldest in the country, and an old cedar of Lebanon (Cedrus libani) that the Princes had imported from France. Under William Robert's leadership, however, the business began to struggle. In the 1830s, he speculated heavily in the domestic silk industry and may have been a key contributor to the skyrocketing prices for mulberry trees (Morus alba), the food source for silkworms. He imported more than one million mulberry trees from France in 1839, and shortly afterward, the price for mulberry trees crashed. When this venture failed, the Princes could not keep up with mortgage payments on the nursery, and by 1841, they lost the Linnaean Botanic Garden and Nurseries in foreclosure. These events spawned a bitter controversy with the property's new owner, Gabriel Winter, who was married to one of William Jr.'s cousins. Although William Robert continued to raise and sell plants from an adjacent nursery property, he and Winter competed in horticultural publications over the right to sell plants as the Linnaean Botanic Garden and Nurseries. Ultimately, the Princes kept the name, and Winter sold the remaining plant inventory and subdivided the original property for housing development. By 1846, the finances at the new Prince nursery began to stabilize, and William Robert published Prince's Manual of Roses, his third and final significant contribution to horticultural literature. At his new botanic garden, William Robert grew over seven hundred rose varieties, and the book provided detailed descriptions of varieties and featured many roses from China. He also included information about horticultural care and propagation. It was one of the very best works on this subject. Still, it was eclipsed in popularity by Samuel B. Parsons's book published the following year: The Rose: Its History, Poetry, Culture, and Classification. Parsons\u2014the proprietor of Parsons Nursery in Flushing\u2014ultimately revised his book as Parsons on the Rose: A Treatise on the Propagation, Culture, and History of the Rose. The competition between these books suggests the horticultural foment that was occurring in Flushing during this period. William Prince Jr. and his son William Robert Prince (above) authored seminal American horticultural manuals. In A Treatise on the Vine, published in 1830, they promoted new grape varieties, including 'Isabella', which became a favorite of American viticulturists. HEDRICK, 1908 AND 1911\/ARCHIVE OF THE ARNOLD ARBORETUM 22 Arnoldia 78\/5-6 \u2022 October 2021 Later, William Robert went on two extended botanical expeditions, to California (in 1849) and Mexico (in 1850). While these trips suggest that the business was doing reasonably well, William Robert began to gradually withdraw from the day-to-day management of the nursery around 1855, at the age of sixty. Instead, he devoted his energy to other botanical interests, including research on botanical medicinal remedies. He also continued to breed and evaluate new varieties of fruits and ornamental plants, especially grapes, strawberries, and roses. His oldest son, William III, meanwhile assumed increasing responsibility for the enterprise. William Robert's career reflected the changes that were going on in the American horticultural community. His father had been a founding member of the New York Horticultural Society in 1818 and joined the Massachusetts Horticultural Society after it was established in 1829, but he was also a member of the Linnaean Society of Paris, the Horticultural Society of London and Paris, and the Academy of Georgofili, based in Florence, Italy. William Robert invested his energy into the increasingly sophisticated American horticultural societies rather than those in Europe. He contributed many articles to the leading American agricultural magazines of the day, such as The Rural New Yorker and Gardener's Monthly. Moreover, he was a member of the American Institute of the City of New York and the American Pomological Society. On March 28, 1869, William Robert died at his home in Flushing, and as it turned out, the esteemed business died with him. William III had enlisted for the United States Army during the Civil War, and he chose to remain in the military. William Robert's second son, LeBaron Bradford, pursued a career in law and politics. Gardener's Monthly printed a two-page obituary for William Robert. It was a sad and respectful tribute to his horticultural brilliance while nonetheless remarking on his combative personality. Meanwhile, the Massachusetts Horticultural Society issued a full resolution commemorating his life as a \"pioneer in the field of horticulture,\" a title that seems equally appropriate for the three generations of Princes that came before him. In 1939, efforts were made to move William Robert's house to the site of the New York World's Fair, to demonstrate a historic colonial homestead, but the campaign came to no avail. Later, New York City park commissioner Robert Moses rejected a proposal to move the structure to Flushing Meadow Park. Moses's vision for a \"modern city\" had little space for old wooden buildings. In its last few years of use, the structure served as a rooming house and a club. The shabby, unpainted building was then boarded up and surrounded by billboards and a gas station. The house was torn down in 1942. Of course, by that point, the lush greenhouses that once welcomed winter visitors had long ago disappeared, and the nursery property had been subdivided and sold for development. Yet, the 150-year story of the Prince family lives on today. The family built a foundation for commercial horticulture in the United States. They championed the cultivation of plants from across the country and around the world, and their publications promoted best practices in horticulture. They even helped with establishing a more systematic approach for horticultural nomenclature. Moreover, the success of the Prince nurseries is inextricably linked to the subsequent generation of horticulturists who established businesses in Flushing. This expanding group of nursery owners became leaders in their own right. In this way, a horticultural legacy that began with one family who lived on the edge of Flushing Creek became a national and international story. Acknowledgment I'm grateful for the support of Susan Lacerte, who recently retired as executive director at the Queens Botanical Garden, located near the former Prince Nurseries. Susan's knowledge of horticulture in Flushing, both present and historical, has been an inspiration. References Cornett, P. 2004, January. Encounters with America's premier nursery and botanic garden. Twinleaf: 1-12. Downing, A. J. 1845. The fruits and fruit trees of America: Or the culture, propagation and management in the garden and orchard of fruit trees generally; with descriptions of all the finest varieties of fruit, native and foreign in this country. New York: Wiley and Putnam. \u222b The Prince Family 23 Gager, C. S. 1912, October. The first botanic garden on Long Island. Brooklyn Botanic Garden Record, 1(4): 97-99. Hedrick, U. P. 1911. The plums of New York (Report of the New York Agricultural Experiment Station). Albany, N.Y.: J. B. Lyon Company. Hedrick, U. P. 1908. The grapes of New York (Report of the New York Agricultural Experiment Station). Albany, N.Y.: J. B. Lyon Company. Hedrick, U. P. 1925. The small fruits of New York (Report of the New York Agricultural Experiment Station). Albany, N.Y.: J. B. Lyon Company. Hedrick, U.P. 1933. A history of agriculture in the State of New York. Printed for the New York State Agricultural Society, Albany, N.Y.: J. B. Lyon Company. Hotchkiss, T. W. 1934. Prince house, Lawrence Street & Northern Boulevard, photographs, written historical and descriptive data. Dist. No. 4, Southern New York State, Historic American Building Survey, HABS No. 4-19. Jacobsen, A. and Williams, J. D. 2009. Prince family nurseries (ca. 1737- post- 1851). Bulletin of the Hunt Institute of Botanical Documentation, 21(1): 4-7. Johnson, J. 1887. The village of Flushing, map of desirable building lots, Flushing: A historical sketch. New York: John P. Stock, Printer. Manks, D. S. 1967. How the American nursery trade began. Plants & Gardens, 23(2). McGourty, F. 1967. Long Island's famous nurseries. Plants & Gardens, 23(3). Munsell, W. W. 1882. History of Queens County, New York, with illustrations, portraits, & sketches of prominent families and individuals. New York: Press of George MacNamara. Prince, B. and Mills, S. F. 1823. A treatise and catalogue of fruit and ornamental trees, shrubs, &c., cultivated at the Old American Nursery. New York: Wm. Grattan. Prince, W. 1771. To be sold, by William Prince, at Flushing-Landing, on Long-Island, near New- York, a large collection of fruit trees, as follows. New York: H. Gaine. Prince, W. 1790. To be sold, by William Prince, at Flushing-Landing, on Long-Island, near New- York, a large collection, as follow, of fruit trees and shrubs. New York: H. Gaine. Prince, W. 1825. Annual catalogue of fruit and ornamental trees and plants, bulbous flower roots, green-house plants, &c. &c., cultivated at the Linnaean Botanic Garden, William Prince, proprietor. New York: T. and J. Swords. Prince, W. 1828. A short treatise on horticulture: Embracing descriptions of a great variety of fruit and ornamental trees and shrubs, grape vines, bulbous flowers, green-house trees and plants. New York: T. and J. Swords. Prince, W. R. and Prince, W. 1830. A treatise on the vine; Embracing it history from the earliest ages to the present day, with descriptions of above two hundred foreign, and eighty American varieties, together with a complete dissertation of the established culture, and management of vineyards. New York: T. & J. Swords. Prince, W. R. and Prince, W. 1831. The pomological manual; or a treatise on fruits: containing descriptions of a great number of the most valuable varieties for the orchard and garden. New York: T. & J. Swords. Prince, W. R. 1846. Princes' Manual of roses: Comprising the most complete history of the rose, including every class, and all the most admirable varieties that have appeared in Europe and America, together with ample information on their culture and propagation. New York: Clark & Austen, Saxton & Miles, Wiley & Putnam, and Stanford & Swords. Ross, P. 1902. A history of Long Island: From its earliest settlement to the present time. New York: Lewis Publishing Co. Smith, E. A. and Hayward, G. 1841. The village of Flushing, Queens County, L.I.: nine miles east of the city of New York: lat. 40\u00b0 45' 1\"N, lon. 73\u00b0 09' 58\"W. [Flushing?: s.n., ?] [Map] Retrieved from the Library of Congress, https:\/\/www.loc. gov\/item\/2008620796 St. George's Episcopal Church, Baptismal Records, 1800- 1840, Flushing, N.Y., 135-32 38th Avenue, Flushing, N.Y., Rev. Wilfredo Benitez, Rector. Trebor, H. (Ed.) 1938, October. Garden center: The four Princes\u2014William of America. So This is Flushing. Flushing, N.Y.: Halleran. U.S. Department of Agriculture. 1976. The Prince family manuscript collection: A register of their papers, in the National Agricultural Library (Library list 101). Beltsville, MD: U.S. Department of Agriculture, National Agricultural Library. Waldron, R. K. 1958. Prince's plants. The Call Number, 20(1). J. Stephen Casscles is an attorney, winemaker, and horticultural writer living in the Hudson Valley. His publications include Grapes of the Hudson Valley and Other Cool Climate Regions of the United States and Canada, published by Flint Mine Press.","distinct_key":"arnoldia-2021-Such a Fine Assemblage: The Jesup Collection of North American Woods"},{"has_event_date":0,"type":"arnoldia","title":"Thomas Meehan: The Horticultural Popularizer","article_sequence":8,"start_page":50,"end_page":61,"url":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/\/action\/directLinkImage?assetId=25743","featured_photo":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/servlet\/display?file=b34509f9d4e0d160af6b.jpg","volume":78,"issue_number":"5-6","year":2021,"series":null,"season":null,"authors":"Aiello, Anthony S.","article_content":"Aside from details exchanged among horticultural history buffs or students of botanical Latin (who know Meehania, a genus in the mint family), little is widely known or remembered of the life and work of Thomas Meehan, a Philadelphia nurseryman, author, editor, and social reformer who rose to prominence in the second half of the nineteenth century.1 Meehan immigrated to Philadelphia when it was still a set of disparate and unincorporated townships on the cusp of transformation into a major industrial city. Upon his arrival, he inherited a horticultural mantle from the Philadelphia Quakers who had studied the flora of the eastern United States and built notable collections of plants in their gardens. Meehan looked to these established collections and assumed the role of the horticultural popularizer. During his long career, he used his nursery and publications to encourage the cultivation of an ever-widening palette of plants. Meehan's desire to engage a broad horticultural audience was clear from the start. In his first book, The American Handbook of Ornamental Trees, published in 1853, Meehan described his intention of creating something for \"extensive popular use.\"2 This goal persisted as he continued to write and edit a series of prominent horticultural magazines, and towards the end of Meehan's career, Charles Sprague Sargent, the director of the Arnold Arboretum, described Meehan's accomplishments as \"a most important factor in increasing the cultivation of American trees and shrubs.\"3 In Philadelphia, Meehan led a remarkable life, contributing to a staggering array of fields. His work is hard to encapsulate, so this article will not offer a complete accounting; instead, to use Meehan's own words, it will present \"an anthology, and will not aim at anything further than to cull the most beautiful, interesting, and important.\"4 Thomas Meehan: The Horticultural Popularizer Anthony S. Aiello At Bartram's Garden Meehan was born in Potter's Bar near London, England, in 1826. From an early age, he was trained in horticulture by his father, himself a well-known gardener. Meehan held several prominent gardener positions as a teenager, before pursuing his formal education at the Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew, graduating in 1848.5 Having been refused a gardening position in England based on religious grounds, Meehan saw the opportunities offered in the United States. By March of the same year, he arrived in Philadelphia, where he would spend the remaining fifty-three years of his life.6 Once in Philadelphia, Meehan quickly became acquainted with the leading horticulturists of the city. He began by working for Robert Buist, who was establishing Rosedale Nursery on what was then the rural edge of southwest Philadelphia. The nursery was famous for its seed business and its selections of fruit and ornamental trees. After one year with Buist, Meehan accepted an offer to work at Bartram's Garden.7 At that point, the garden was transitioning from ownership by the Bartram family to Andrew M. Eastwick, a railroad magnate, who had recognized the garden's importance and built an elaborate Victorian home there, preserving the original Bartram house and its famous plant collection. Until 1850, Bartram's Garden had been operated by the founding family. John Bartram, the patriarch, had been a royal botanist for the king of Great Britain. He and his son William explored the eastern United States, collecting seeds that they propagated for their garden and distributed to other respected horticulturists throughout America and Great Britain. William maintained the garden upon his father's death. In turn, William's niece Ann Bartram Carr and her husband, Robert, were the third generation AIELLO, A. S. 2021. THOMAS MEEHAN: THE HORTICULTURAL POPULARIZER. ARNOLDIA, 78(5-6): 50-61 Facing page: Thomas Meehan was a central booster of American horticulture in the late nineteenth century. As a nursery owner, he promoted an ever-widening palette of plants, and as a horticultural writer and editor, he did the same. He is photographed here for the Centennial Exposition of 1876. PORTRAIT COURTESY OF THE FREE LIBRARY OF PHILADELPHIA, PRINT AND PICTURE COLLECTION Earth 51 52 Arnoldia 78\/5-6 \u2022 October 2021 to build the collection, continuing the family's international trade in seeds and plants. One can only imagine Meehan's fascination with this plant collection, undoubtedly one of the best in the United States at the time and one primed for study by a keen student of horticulture. While he was there, Meehan began collecting notes for his first book, The American Handbook of Ornamental Trees. He fitted out a place to write in the woodshed that John Bartram had used for potting and packing seed.8 It is difficult to imagine what Meehan's experience was like in that woodshed, but from a photograph that he published of the structure years later, it appears analogous to an artist's garret, cramped quarters but perhaps a place with little to distract the author from his work. In the garden, what would Meehan have experienced? From the Handbook, published in 1853, we get a sense of the diversity and size of the trees growing there. Fittingly, many of the trees that Meehan described would have been potted up in the very same building where he collected his observations as much as a century later. Meehan first intended for the book to list the trees growing at Bartram's Garden, but it evolved into a more comprehensive project that included all the trees (and some shrubs) cultivated throughout the Delaware Valley and presumably across the Northeast. In 1852, while he worked on the project, Meehan left Bartram's Garden to work for Caleb Cope, the former president of the Pennsylvania Horticultural Society. Cope's Springbrook estate was located along the Delaware River in far northern Philadelphia.9 In presenting his authorial credentials, Meehan acknowledged his time at Kew and several \"superior establishments\" in Philadelphia. He added that \"nothing has been admitted into the body of the work that has not been the result of the personal experience of the author. No tree is described as being in cultivation which the author has not himself seen.\" Meehan's horticultural ambitions are evident from his ability to visit and bear first-hand witness to so many trees in such a short period. The pace is even more remarkable given that travel on unimproved roads among the surrounding counties was challenging. Yet, Meehan's inveterate field research not only allowed him to understand the regional horticultural diversity but also brought him into the gardens of prominent botanical collectors. The Handbook documented the gardens of the early Philadelphia Quaker botanists and described the transition from the local horticultural heritage to a broader palette of plants from Europe and Asia. Here we see Meehan serving as a bridge between two eras: from the horticultural legacy of the late 1700s and early 1800s to the broader and more outward-looking horticultural developments of the late nineteenth century. The Handbook provides glimpses into the most renowned collections of the time. Of course, Meehan describes numerous notable trees at Bartram's Garden, including an old Franklin tree (Franklinia alatamaha, listed as Gordonia pubescens), which was likely one of William Bartram's original eighteenth-century collections. Meehan also lists massive specimens like a ninety-three-foot-tall Kentucky coffeetree (Gymnocladus dioicus) and a fifteenfoot- tall cornelian-cherry (Cornus mas), a European species that would have been a collector's tree at that time. Meehan also describes plants at the home of Humphry Marshall\u2014author of Arbustrum Americanum: The American Grove, who lived near West Chester\u2014and the now-forgotten arboretum of John Evans, which was one of the most significant collections of its time, located in Radnor, about fifteen miles west of Philadelphia. The best extant example of a nineteenthcentury arboretum that Meehan visited is that of the Peirce family, which now comprises the core of Peirce's Park at Longwood Gardens. The Peirces began their collection in the early 1800s, creating one of the finest regional arboreta by building on their forerunners, the Bartrams and Marshalls. The collection became renowned for its scale and diversity. Meehan describes several notable trees at this location, some of which remain today. For example, in his description of eastern redbud (Cercis canadensis), Meehan mentioned that he had \"seen fine specimens of this in Mr. Pierce's [sic] fine avenue.\" Similarly, he listed a cucumbertree magnolia (Magnolia acuminata var. subcordata, then M. cordata) with a four-foot circumference in Peirce's arboretum. In recent years, this tree was named as the cultivar 'Peirce's Park', and although the original tree was lost during a storm in April Thomas Meehan 53 2020, several young ones are planted throughout Longwood Gardens. Meehan's horticultural explorations were not limited to prestigious gardens. A favorite tree citation in the Handbook is of paper mulberry (Broussonetia papyrifera), a curious species native to East Asia. Meehan wrote that it \"thrives on the sea-shore,\" growing in Cape May, New Jersey. Boat travel from Philadelphia to Cape May was then much easier than overland travel, and Cape May's geography led to its development as a Victorian-era resort. One can picture Meehan taking a busman's holiday to the beach, recording notes even during precious personal time. At the time, he would have been courting his future wife, Catherine (Kitty) Colflesh, and one can imagine her joining him on tree-hunting excursions. Meehan's appendix is equally informative for students of horticultural history because it lists tree species recently introduced but which he had not observed. This detail helps to date the introduction of these species into the United States, or specifically Philadelphia. For example, Meehan lists nine species of maple in the main text: six native to the eastern United States, along with two common European species, the hedge maple (Acer campestre) and Norway maple (A. platanoides). In his appendix, however, he listed maples that he was aware of but had not seen. These included the vine maple (A. circinatum) from the Pacific Northwest, and the Bosnian and Italian maples (A. obtusatum, and A. opalus, respectively), which were just appearing on the East Coast. Germantown Nurseries In 1854, Meehan started a nursery in partnership with William Saunders of Baltimore in the Germantown section of Philadelphia, well outside the developed portions of the city.10 While Saunders's involvement lasted only a year, the Germantown Nurseries quickly became one of the regional leaders in growing and selling trees, shrubs, and perennials. Meehan's brother Joseph joined the operation in 1859, and his Thomas Meehan compiled notes for his first book in John Bartram's woodshed\u2014a place where the Bartram family likely potted some of the very trees that Meehan described decades later. ARCHIVES OF THE ARNOLD ARBORETUM; MEEHAN'S MONTHLY (VOL. 6) 54 Arnoldia 78\/5-6 \u2022 October 2021 three sons (Thomas B., J. Franklin, and S. Mendelson) came on board in the decades to come. As evidence of the success of the operations, what had begun as a few acres of land in Germantown grew to 75 acres by the late 1800s and then to 150 acres by the turn of the twentieth century, encompassing property in Germantown and suburban Dresher, Pennsylvania.11 The nursery was especially known for its diverse offerings of North American trees. By 1893, a correspondent for Garden and Forest noted that \"Mr. Meehan early recognized that \u2026 American plants are the best for America\" and went on to say that \"in no other place are American trees and shrubs raised in such quantities.\" Their offerings included native species that were difficult to find at other nurseries. Yet, Meehan simultaneously offered and promoted non-natives species as they became available.12 This Janus-like approach to horticulture continued the link to Philadelphia's horticultural heritage while recognizing the changing demography and tastes of the city's gardeners. American nursery catalogues from the mid- 1800s reveal that most ornamental trees offered were from North America and Europe, with a smattering from Asia Minor and Asia.13 A watershed moment in the availability of greater plant diversity occurred at the Centennial Exposition, the first official world's fair held in the United States, which took place in Philadelphia from the spring to autumn of 1876. As a celebration of the one-hundredth anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence, the event exposed a vast audience to a wide array of modern conveniences, inventions, and international cultures. Also, through various horticultural exhibits, the Exposition introduced Asian (particularly Japanese) plant species to a broad American audience. Prior to the Exposition, GERMANTOWN HISTORICAL SOCIETY\/HISTORIC GERMANTOWN Elms flank the entrance to Meehan's Nurseries, photographed around 1902. Thomas Meehan 55 Japanese species were slowly making their way into Boston and New York but had yet to see wider availability.14 Meehan created an arboretum of over seven hundred trees for the Exposition. Local newspapers described it as a \"grand miniature forest\" that was especially noteworthy for its collection of \"trees and shrubs of the United States.\"15 Other prominent nurserymen had displays nearby, including Josiah Hoopes (whose display included twelve hundred evergreens and forty varieties of ivies), Robert Buist (showcasing trees, shrubs, and herbaceous plants), and S. B. Parson & Sons (who were reported to have \"remarkable Japanese plants, maples, evergreens, azalias [sic], new shrubs, and half hardy plants\").16 After the Exhibition, Meehan and the other nursery owners provided portions of their outdoor collections to Philadelphia's Fairmount Park. Therefore, the diversity of their displays is suggested in Joseph Rothrock's catalogue of the trees and shrubs in Fairmount Park, published in 1880. The catalogue documents early introductions of Asian species, including Japanese maple (Acer palmatum), Asian magnolias (like Magnolia campbellii and M. denudata), panicle hydrangea (Hydrangea paniculata), and the lacebark pine (Pinus bungeana).17 After the event, the diversity of plant offerings from Japan rapidly increased, and by the end of the 1800s, many now-familiar plants, and many that we still think of as \"rare and unusual,\" were regularly offered for sale. Meehan was quick to recognize the importance of these introductions. When he wrote about the other nursery displays at the Exhibition in Gardener's Monthly, a magazine that he had edited since 1859, he remarked on the \"special bed\" of Japanese plants shown by S. B. Parsons & Sons. Among the most striking plants, he reported, was the red-leaved Japanese maple (now Acer palmatum forma atropurpureum).18 By 1882, Meehan's nursery catalogue offered one-foot-tall specimens of this for two dollars, then among his most expensive offerings. On the back cover of the same catalogue, he proudly advertised the \"Japan Snowball\" (Viburnum plicatum), claiming that his nursery had been first to introduce it into the United States. This claim was accompanied by the only illustration in the catalogue, suggesting that Meehan fully recognized the commercial importance of these newcomers.19 By the 1890s, Meehan's nurseries were offering a weeping Japanese cherry (what would now be considered Prunus subhirtella), Asian magnolias and maples, and even umbrella pine (Sciadopitys verticillata) and Hiba falsearborvitae (Thujopsis dolabrata).20 In some sense, Meehan's nursery served as a laboratory for him to study plants. A perfect example of this is the daimyo oak (Quercus dentata). At a meeting of the Academy of Natural Sciences of Philadelphia in 1886, Meehan presented a short description of the floral structure of Quercus dentata, grown from seed that he had received from Japan at the time of the Centennial Exposition.21 By 1895, the daimyo oak was offered by his nursery, described as \"a rich addition to our list of oaks \u2026 in May the yellow flowers, in long aments, make it attractive in a way no other oak is.\"22 Despite his ever-increasing interest in nonnative species, Meehan maintained a strong affinity for native plants. In the same 1895 catalogue in which he advertised the daimyo oak, Meehan wrote that \"for twenty years or more we have been trying to impress upon American planters the importance of using Native Oaks in landscape works \u2026 and finally, after all these years, planters began to realize that we were right and to recognize in the American Oak, the 'King of Trees.'\"23 And while Meehan is often most associated with woody plants, his catalogues have a large diversity of native herbaceous perennials and hardy ferns\u2014many sought out by today's keen gardeners. Meehan's nursery distributed plants to botanical institutions, including the Arnold Arboretum where a few dozen specimens are still alive. The most historically significant are two Franklin trees (Franklinia alatamaha, accession 2428-3*A and *B), propagated in 1905 from a plant that Meehan provided about thirty years earlier. These are believed to be the oldest living representatives of the species.24 Other Meehan plants at the Arboretum include a group of five black oaks (Quercus velutina, accession 1237), acquired in 1873, when the Arboretum was only a year old, and a Southern red oak (Q. falcata, accession 3333*A). These North American oaks are now living reminders of Meehan's commitment to the \"King of Trees.\" 56 Arnoldia 78\/5-6 \u2022 October 2021 Horticultural Writer and Editor Meehan was a prolific author throughout his career. He served as editor of the Gardener's Monthly until 1888, when its publisher, Charles Marot, died. A few years later, Meehan's Monthly was born and continued until 1902. Over his forty years as the editor of monthly publications, Meehan generated a vast amount of material to read. His prodigious output is hard to encapsulate or even anthologize. The tone of the publications was conversational and newsy, and his personal writing style was both informative and approachable. In a period before easy (not to mention instant) communication, these journals regularly shared information and current trends, mixed with a bit of human interest.25 In the initial issue of Garden and Forest, in 1888, an unsigned editorial (perhaps written by Charles Sargent, who \"conducted\" the magazine) commented on the loss of the Gardener's Monthly: \"Ever since we have been interested in the cultivation of flowers we have looked to the Monthly for inspiration and advice, and its pages have rarely been turned without finding the assistance we stood in need of.\" The editorial continued by celebrating Meehan's imprint on the publication. \"Fortunately, the Gardener's Monthly, and its modest and accomplished editor, Mr. Thomas Meehan, were one and the same thing. It is Mr. Meehan's long editorial experience, high character, great learning and varied practical knowledge, which made the Gardener's Monthly what it was. These, we are happy to know, are not lost to us, as Mr. Meehan will \u2026 continue to delight and instruct the horticultural public.\"26 In the late 1870s, Meehan had also begun a multivolume work titled The Native Flowers and Ferns of the United States. The project is another testament to his long-standing love of North American plants. In the preface to the first volume, Meehan described how the project emerged from his desire to write a scientific treatment on the North American flora. Although he pitched this idea to a publisher, he ultimately decided, once again, to focus on engaging a more general audience. \"A purely scientific and systematic treatise \u2026 must necessarily be limited to a small circle of readers,\" he explained, \"and even in this small circle there would be but a few who would care to subscribe to a work, the end of which they might never live to see.\" Four volumes were produced, and Meehan's voice shines through them. He lushly described almost fifty species in each volume, often incorporating history, poetry, and horticultural information. The entry for each species included a lavish color illustration.27 The project was revived in 1891 when Meehan's Monthly was launched. While Meehan's Monthly was a newsy horticultural periodical, in keeping with the style and tone of the Gardener's Monthly, each issue began with a description of a native species and was accompanied with illustrations prepared for unpublished volumes of the Native Flowers and Ferns project. Garden and Forest celebrated the arrival of this new periodical: \"Mr. Meehan's return to horticultural journalism will be welcomed by many readers of the Gardeners' Monthly who felt something like a personal bereavement at the discontinuance of that excellent magazine.\"28 Along with these horticultural pursuits, Meehan maintained a long-running correspondence with many notable botanists of his time, including George Engelmann, Asa Gray, and Charles Darwin. Much of this correspondence concerns specific observations or botanical questions, often relating to articles that Meehan would eventually publish in the Proceedings of the Academy of Natural Sciences of Philadelphia, where he long served as the vice president. Advocate for Urban Green Space In the later years of his life, Meehan became actively involved in urban improvement. In 1883, he accepted a role on the Philadelphia Common Council in order to ensure the creation of city parks and preservation of Bartram's Garden.29 Meehan was instrumental in forming the City Parks Association, creating lasting green space in the most urbanized neighborhoods. He is credited with introducing nature study and kindergarten to Philadelphia public schools, and he strived to improve the educational system for working-class families throughout the city.30 Among these accomplishments, it is the preservation of Bartram's Garden that is the most noteworthy. In 1879, Andrew Eastwick died, Thomas Meehan 57 Thomas Meehan's work on The Native Flowers and Ferns of the United States serves as one of the clearest examples of his lucid writing style. Each of his entries was accompanied by chromolithograph illustrations prepared by Louis Prang of Boston. The illustrations and excerpts here appeared in later installments of the project in Meehan's Monthly. Pinkshell Azalea (Rhododendron vaseyi) \" It is one of a number of beautiful plants missed by the early explorers of the Mountains of North Carolina, and which have been brought to light only in modern times.\" MEEHAN'S MONTHLY (VOL. 7) ILLUSTRATIONS FROM THE ARCHIVES OF THE ARNOLD ARBORETUM 58 Arnoldia 78\/5-6 \u2022 October 2021 Coast Cholla (Cylindropuntia prolifera) \" Animals take the fruit to their haunts, use the fl esh, and scatter the undigested seeds in various directions,\u2014certainly many fruit-bearing plants are widely distributed in this manner. Those who think this feature a special adaptation will see in the absence of spines in the fruit of this species, strong confi rmation of this view. The plant would be spiny, it would be contended, in order to protect it against browsing creatures; while, when consumption instead of protection became useful to the plant, the production of spines would be arrested.\" MEEHAN'S MONTHLY (VOL. 3) Thomas Meehan 59 Rosebay Rhododendron (Rhododendron maximum) \" In a state of nature the Rhododendron inhabits wild, rocky places, in uninhabited regions where the foot of the traveler is rarely seen \u2026 So far away are they generally in their gloomy homes that even the great traveler, John Bartram, had not met with them anywhere west of the Schuylkill river.\" MEEHAN'S MONTHLY (VOL. 1) 60 Arnoldia 78\/5-6 \u2022 October 2021 Partridgeberry (Mitchella repens) \" It is remarkable that a plant so attractive in so many ways should not have become more attached to the public mind, or received more attention from polite writers, but the author can recall no instance in American poetry or general literature in which the Partridge berry plays a conspicuous part.\" MEEHAN'S MONTHLY (VOL. 3) and for nearly a decade, the resolution of his estate and the fate of Bartram's Garden remained unresolved.31 Shortly after Eastwick's death, Sargent, using his connections in Philadelphia, tried to organize a group of \"liberal gentlemen\" to purchase the property.32 This effort was unsuccessful because the owners of the estate believed that \"they could make more [profi t] by destroying its botanical associations, and turning the whole into building lots.\"33 Sargent continued to provide support on a national level through Garden and Forest, arguing in an unsigned editorial that \"the name of Bartram's Garden should be preserved and \u2026 should be maintained in as near the condition as its fi rst owner left it.\"34 Meanwhile, Meehan and members of the City Parks Association continued the local campaign. Ultimately, the City of Philadelphia appropriated funds to purchase Bartram's Garden in 1889, took ownership in 1891, and fi nalized the purchase in 1893.35 As a result, more than forty years after Meehan had fi rst worked at the historic garden, it became preserved in perpetuity. This achievement must have been remarkably gratifying for Meehan, seeing the preservation of the place that helped to launch his career and that had such horticultural signifi cance in his adopted city. Once the future of Bartram's Garden was settled, Meehan's foresight in creating open space throughout the city was acknowledged with another Garden and Forest editorial: \"The fact that the people of Philadelphia are securing a series of small parks is largely due to the publicspirited and tireless efforts of Mr. Thomas Meehan, the well-known horticulturist \u2026 Many generations of Philadelphians will have a good reason to remember with gratitude his disinterested efforts for the improvement and happiness of his fellow men.\"36 Meehan's Legacy As a coda to his life, Meehan was awarded the Veitch Memorial Medal in 1901, a few months before he died. He followed Sargent and Liberty Hyde Bailey as the third American to win this honor. In conferring it, the Royal Horticultural Society recognized his \"distinguished services in botany and horticulture.\" Seeing Meehan in the company of these two towering fi gures of late nineteenth and early twentieth-century Thomas Meehan 61 American horticulture affirms his stature among his peers: Sargent, one of the great dendrologists of his era, who brought the Arnold Arboretum to prominence, and Bailey, a man of astoundingly broad interests and accomplishments who combined the science of botany with the art of horticulture. Meehan pursued similar combinations and was interested not only in the world of horticulture but in using it for the betterment of his fellow citizens. It is worth pondering what Meehan would think if he were to see the state of contemporary horticulture. Certainly, many if not most of the trees that are commonly planted across the Northeast would be familiar to him. Having straddled the divide between native and nonnative plants, he might think that there would be no need for invidious comparisons between the two groups. And he might be bemused at the trends in \"new\" native plants, having promoted many of those species in his various publications and through his nursery. If nothing else, although his name may have faded, Thomas Meehan's impact as a promoter of modern horticulture has not. Endnotes 1 Oberle, S. G. 1997. The influence of Thomas Meehan on horticulture in the United States. University of Delaware, M. S. Thesis Dissertation 2 Meehan, T. 1853. The American handbook of ornamental trees. Philadelphia: Lippincott, Grambo, and Co. 3 Sargent, C. S. 1890. Silva of North America (vol. 9). New York: Peter Smith. 4 Meehan, T. 1878. The native flowers and ferns of the United States in their botanical, horticultural, and popular aspects (vol. 1). Boston: L. Prang. 5 Meehan, S. M. 1902. A brief sketch of the life of Thomas Meehan. Meehan's Monthly, 12: 13-19. 6 Harshberger, J. W. 1899. The botanists of Philadelphia and their work. Philadelphia: T. C. Davis. 7 Meehan, T. 1896a. Meehan letter to C. S. Sargent, 16 August 1896. Charles Sprague Sargent (1841-1927) papers, Arnold Arboretum Horticultural Library, Harvard University. 8 Meehan, T. 1896b. John Bartram's wood-shed. Meehan's Monthly, 6: 17. 9 Meehan, 1902. 10 Meehan, 1902. 11 Oberle, 1997. 12 S. 1893, September. The Meehan Nurseries and the trees of Germantown. Garden and Forest, 6(289): 377-378. 13 See, for instance: Hoopes, Bro. & Thomas. 1870. Annual trade list of the Cherry Hill Nurseries, West Chester, Pa.: Spring of 1870. West Chester, PA: Hoopes, Bro. & Thomas. 14 Del Tredici, P. 2017. The introduction of Japanese plants into North America. The Botanical Review, 83: 215-252. 15 Thomas Meehan of Germantown. 1876, April. Reading Times (Reading, PA), 37(22): 2; An interesting display. 1876, May. The Daily Evening Express (Lancaster, PA), 39(105): 2. 16 Burr, S. J. 1877. Memorial of the International exhibition. Hartford: L. Stebbins. 17 Rothrock, J. T. 1880. Catalogue of trees and shrubs native of and introduced in the horticultural gardens adjacent to Horticultural Hall in Fairmount Park, Philadelphia. 18 Meehan, T. 1876. Horticulture at the Centennial. The Gardener's Monthly, 18(212): 254-256. 19 Germantown Nurseries. 1882. General price list for the fall of 1882. Germantown, PA: Germantown Nurseries. 20 Meehans' Nurseries. 1895. Catalogue. Germantown, PA: Thomas Meehan & Sons. 21 Meehan, T. 1886. Note on Quercus dentata. Proceedings of the Academy of Natural Sciences of Philadelphia. 38: 280-281. 22 Meehans' Nurseries, 1895. 23 Meehans' Nurseries, 1895. 24 Del Tredici, P. 2005. Against all odds: Growing Franklinia in Boston. Arnoldia, 63(4): 2-7. 25 Oberle, 1997. 26 The Gardener's Monthly. 1888, February. Garden and Forest, (1)1: 1. 27 Meehan, 1878. 28 Notes. 1891, March. Garden and Forest, 4(161): 144. 29 Meehan, T. 1897. In Bartram's Garden. Meehan's Monthly, 7: 50. 30 Harshberger, 1899; Meehan, 1902. 31 Fry, J. 2004. John Bartram House and Garden. Historic American Landscape Survey, (HALS) PA-1. 32 Fry, 2004; Meehan, T. 1885. The old botanic garden of Bartram. The Gardener's Monthly and Horticulturist, 27: 26-27. 33 Meehan, 1885. 34 Notes. 1889, February. Garden and Forest, 2(52): 86. 35 Fry, 2004. 36 Notes. 1889, March. Garden and Forest, 2(54): 120. Anthony S. Aiello is the associate director of conservation, plant breeding, and collections at Longwood Gardens."},{"has_event_date":0,"type":"arnoldia","title":"The Intertwined Attractions of Plants, Moths, and People","article_sequence":9,"start_page":62,"end_page":67,"url":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/\/action\/directLinkImage?assetId=25744","featured_photo":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/servlet\/display?file=b34509f9d4e0d160b36e.jpg","volume":78,"issue_number":"5-6","year":2021,"series":null,"season":null,"authors":"Bawa, Kamaljit S.","article_content":"The Intertwined Attractions of Plants, Moths, and People Kamaljit S. Bawa It was a warm and humid night in September of 2003. In a tropical forest by the coast of Madagascar, Phil Devries, an entomologist and noted nature videographer, swatted mosquitoes hovering around his face. He had been waiting eagerly for a visitor since seven o'clock. As the night transitioned to early morning, without any signs of the visitor, the tension and anxiety in Phil's mind increased. For the visitor, Phil Devries was inconsequential; the desired object was Darwin's orchid near which Phil (or the Butterfly Man, as he is popularly known) had parked himself to photograph the orchid's pollinator. \"Good Heavens what insect can suck it,\" Charles Darwin is said to have remarked in reference to the nectar in the long floral tube of Angraecum sesquipedale, now known as the Darwin's orchid, native of Madagascar.1 Darwin had received the orchid on January 25, 1862, from James Bateman, a businessman, collector of plants, and horticulturist, who grew orchids. Darwin then famously predicted that A. sesquipedale must be pollinated by a hawkmoth with a proboscis that measured at least eleven inches in length.2 In 1903, almost forty years after Darwin intuited its existence, a hawkmoth with long mouth parts was described by Walter Rothschild and Karl Jordan. It was isolated from moth specimens collected on an earlier expedition to Madagascar by Jules Paul Mabille, a French naturalist. Rothschild and Jordan named the species Xanthopan morganii. However, it was not until 1992, a good ninety years later, that Lutz Wasserthal, a German biologist, observed X. morganii visiting the flowers of A. sesquipedale in real life. Only then was the connection between orchid flowers and moths finally confirmed.3 Visits of moths to flowers in the wild are hard to observe. And so, Wasserthal had to use large flight tents to photograph the two partners engaged in the mutually beneficial relationship. Finally, in 2003, after spending several nights in the Madagascar forest, Phil Devries was able to photograph the evasive moths visiting the flowers of A. sesquipedale in the wild\u2014at around three o'clock in the morning.4 The correlation between the length of the floral tube and the length of moth's proboscis led Darwin to infer the process of coevolution, in which natural selection favors reciprocal increases in the length of the floral tube and moth's proboscis. Heritable variation\u2014in this case, variation in floral tube and the length of proboscis in moths\u2014is the raw material on which natural selection acts. Between Darwin's original prediction and the eye-witness observation, 130 years had passed. Nothing in science comes easy. Not even for Darwin. It was Gregor Mendel, an Austrian monk, who proposed the principles of inheritance in 1865, based on his experiments with peas. From Darwin's orchids to Mendel's peas, plants have played an important role in the study of evolution. Curiously and coincidentally, both Darwin and Mendel were contemporaries, and although Mendel's work filled a critical gap in Darwin's theory of evolution by natural selection, the two men did not know of each other's work! While Darwin is noted for his work on evolution, he is much less known as an ardent botanist. He was greatly interested in the reproduction of plants, particularly orchids. He wrote several books on plants: The Power of Movement in Plants, On the Various Contrivances by Which British and Foreign Orchids Are Fertilised by Insects, On the Good Effects of Intercrossing, The Different Forms of Flowers on Plants of the Same Species, and Insectivorous Plants. Plants were critical to the formulation of his ideas both about inherent variation and how natural selection acts on this variation to enable evolution. Facing page: Darwin's orchid (Angraecum sesquipedale) is one of thousands of night-flowering plants pollinated by moths. In this case, only one pollinator can accomplish the task\u2014Xanthopan morganii. SENCKENBERG COLLECTION \/ PHOTO: SAMMLUNGSFOTOGRAFEN.DE BAWA, K. S. 2021. THE INTERTWINED ATTRACTIONS OF PLANTS, MOTHS, AND PEOPLE. ARNOLDIA, 78(5-6): 62-67 Moths and Sex Pheromones It is March 1974, and I am waiting, at evening time, under a large Luehea speciosa. The tree stands in a dry tropical forest in Guanacaste Province, Costa Rica. The previous day, I had seen its large white flowers start to bloom around eight o'clock in the evening. And so, the next day, under the tree and in the light of the moon, I staked a vantage point and started my watch. At exactly a quarter to eight, and almost like magic, the large white petals start to unfurl. In a quarter of an hour, almost a hundred flowers in my field of view have opened in near-perfect synchronicity. In my five decades of fieldwork in Costa Rica, that night was one of the most memorable and remains permanently etched in my memory. Plants depend on a wide variety of animals to get cross-pollinated. The diversity of these pollination systems is on full display in tropical evergreen forests, the world's most speciesrich ecological communities. On any given day, at any time during a short walk through the forest, one can encounter flowers of many sizes, shapes, and colors that are pollinated by insects\u2014largely bees, butterflies, and flies\u2014 and, at times, birds. For a different set of plant species that start to open their flowers around dusk and at night, insects (beetles and moths) and mammals (primarily bats) take over the role of major pollinators. All across the globe, but mostly in the tropics, tens of thousands of plant species are pollinated by an equally large number of moth species at night. Moth-pollinated flowers are almost always white and tubular, with nectar at the base of the tube. They blossom in the evening, soon after dusk, and the blooms last for one or two nights. During this time, the moths visit them frequently, making multiple forays throughout the hours of the night. Insect pollinators visit flowers for food, but, to them, flowers are more than a food source. They are also sites of mating and, often, a source of compounds that play an important role in facilitating these sexual encounters. Flowers produce a variety of volatile compounds to attract insects, such as moths. Smell plays an important role in attracting insects from afar, especially at night, when visual cues can only function once the pollinators approach the flower closely. Female moths use volatile compounds produced by flowers to synthesize sex pheromones, which they release to attract males. In some cases, the volatiles associated with the floral smell simply induce female moths to produce large amounts of sex pheromones, but in others, the female moths can absorb or ingest the volatiles and convert the compounds directly into pheromones. The males are not left behind. In some species of moths, males sequester pyrrolizidine alkaloids from flowers to use them as precursors for the synthesis of pheromones. Sometimes, the males even transfer the alkaloids to the female during mating, for the defense of eggs against predators.5 Thus, flowers play a critical role not only in the provision of food and nutrition but also in the mating and reproduction of pollinators. Evening Fragrances and Romantic Nights Thirty years later, I am in Bangalore, the techno-hub of South India. It is again late evening, and I am passing through a small market buzzing with people. Walking in front of vegetable and food stores, I am overpowered with fragrances emanating from buds and flowers of jasmine (Jasminum) strung together for hair adornments. And indeed, I see many women walking around with their long hair arranged in many different styles and adorned with strings of fragrant jasmine. Throughout remembered history, and for millennia, flowers have been a part of daily life in India, as adornments for gods and humans. The Hindu epic Ra\u02c9ma\u02c9 yana about the life of Ram, one of the most celebrated gods of Hindus, includes references to Sita, Ram's wife, decorating her hair with floral arrangements. And in a well-known epic poem written in the fourth century CE, the playwright Ka\u02c9 lida\u02c9 sa included a verse in which sensuality and pollination merge: Sensuous women in summer love weave flower earrings from fragile petals of mimosa 64 Arnoldia 78\/5-6 \u2022 October 2021 while wild bees kiss them gently 6 Anthologies of classical Tamil, written between 100 BCE and 250 CE, describe the flowers that women bear as those of jasmine. For men, too, flowers have been a bedtime adornment for ages, and the exchange of flowers between individuals has always carried unspoken and covert sexual connotations.7 From trees in Costa Rica that use flowers to attract moths to women in India who use flowers for adornment, the fundamental motives of life are the same irrespective of geographies, gender, or species. But the enchantment of union does not stop there. The collision of these seemingly different worlds gets closer and more intimate. Jasminium sumbac and other species of Jasminum are native to South India and other parts of tropical Asia. Jasmine flowers are highly fragrant, pollinated by moths, and here, too, the maximum production of aromatic compounds is between seven and eight o'clock in the evening!8 Moon and Sex Back in Costa Rica and on another moonlit night, I am driving to my campsite after a full day of fieldwork in the dry deciduous forest. Chains of white jasmine (Jasminum) are worn as a hair adornment in Tamil Nadu, India. The flowers become increasingly fragrant in the evening. MCKAY SAVAGE (CC BY 2.0) Intertwined Lives 65 There is little traffic on the Pan-American Highway, which means that I can easily observe the star-studded trees of Bombacopsis quinata, a relative of the silk cotton tree, on both sides of the road. Under the full moon, it is a beautiful sight, with a tree coming into view every few minutes. The \"stars,\" indeed, are large, white, moth-pollinated flowers, perched high in the leafless crowns of these very large trees. For the past several evenings, I have been passing by these trees in flower, but this time, the number of flowers on the trees appears to be unusually large. Flowers in this species last for a single night, but individual trees flower over many weeks, with a new batch opening every night. It seemed that the intensity of flowering was associated with lunar cycles, with the largest number of flowers opening on nights with the full moon. While, on this evening drive, I cannot confirm the correlation between the intensity of flowering and phases of the moon, researchers would later document such trends for other species. Moths are known to be more active on moonlit nights, and pollination can be more intense during a full moon for moth-pollinated species, as, for example, in Ephedra foeminea, a gymnosperm. In contrast to most gymnosperms, which are wind-pollinated, this species attracts moths by secreting a pollination drop from its cones. Individual plants produce their maximum amount of pollination drops during full moons. Meanwhile, a related species of Ephedra is wind-pollinated, and in that case, there is no connection between pollination and lunar cycles.9 Is there a general correlation between lunar cycles and pollination intensity for the thou- Flowers of Bombacopsis quinata open at sundown, seemingly more abundant in the treetops when the moon is full. REINALDO AGUILAR (CC BY-NC-SA 2.0) 66 Arnoldia 78\/5-6 \u2022 October 2021 sands of night-blooming plant species? We do not know. Recently, researchers have shown that a desert cactus (Cereus peruvianus), presumably pollinated by bats, puts on its largest display of flowers around the full moon. The species flowers over a few months with the number of flowers going up and down with the lunar cycles.10 The moon has always been associated with romance in our own human cultures. Surprisingly, there is insufficient data to establish a link between sexual activity with lunar cycles. Interestingly, though, research has shown that a larger proportion of females demonstrate ovulation during the full moon, and all genders experience higher aggression levels and less sleep.11 Intertwined in the Web of Life It is evening again, and the sex lives of plants, moths, and humans intertwine. All of these organisms use the same compounds to attract mates: smell is a main stimulant for each. Plants, indeed, cannot smell, yet floral volatiles are a major incentive for moths to visit flowers. Among the three partners, plants reign supreme. They seem to dictate the terms of the relationships. Moths, in fact, are held in bondage. They cannot attract mates without pheromones for which the plants hold the precursors. Humans also seem to be dependent on plants as intermediaries, although they, of course, can do without them. For those who study life on earth, the interconnections among plants, moths, and humans are not surprising. We are a part of the web of life that has celestial connections with other planets. These connections are vital for maintaining all lives, especially ours. We should celebrate and value these connections that enrich our lives by ceasing our assault on nature. Endnotes 1 Arditti, J., Elliott, J., Kitching I. J., and Wasserthal, L. T. 2012. \"Good Heavens what insect can suck it\"\u2014Charles Darwin, Angraecum sesquipedale and Xanthopan morganii praedicta. Botanical Journal of the Linnean Society, 169: 403-432. https:\/\/doi. org\/10.1111\/j.1095-8339.2012.01250.x 2 Netz, C. and Renner, S. S. 2017. Long-spurred Angraecum orchids and long-tongued sphingid moths on Madagascar: A time frame for Darwin's predicted Xanthopan\/Angraecum coevolution. Biological Journal of the Linnean Society, 122(2): 469-478. https:\/\/doi.org\/10.1093\/biolinnean\/blx086 3 Wasserthal, L. T. 1997. The pollinators of the Malagasy star orchids Angraecum sesquipedale, A. sororium and A. compactum and the evolution of extremely long spurs by pollinator shift. Botanica Acta, 110(5): 343-359. https:\/\/doi.org\/10.1111\/j.1438-8677.1997. tb00650.x 4 See video in: Tartaglia, E. 2015. Year of the Sphingidae\u2014Co-evolution. National Moth Week. https:\/\/nationalmothweek.org\/2015\/07\/17\/year-ofthe- sphingidae-co-evolution\/ 5 St\u00f6kl, J. and Steiger, S. 2017. Evolutionary origin of insect pheromones. Current Opinion in Insect Science, 24: 36-42. https:\/\/doi.org\/10.1016\/j.cois.2017.09.004 6 Miller, B. S. 1984. Theater of memory: The plays of Ka\u02c9 lida\u02c9 sa. New York: Columbia University Press. 7 Goody, J. 1993. The culture of flowers. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, p. 323-324. 8 Braun, N. A. and Sim, S. 2012. Jasminum sambac flower absolutes from India and China\u2014Geographic variations. Natural Product Communications, 7(5): 645-650. https:\/\/doi.org\/10.1177\/1934578x1200700526 9 Rydin, C. and Bolinder, K. 2015. Moonlight pollination in the gymnosperm Ephedra (Gnetales). Biology Letters, 11(4): 10-13. https:\/\/doi.org\/10.1098\/ rsbl.2014.0993 10 Ben-Attia, M., Reinberg, A., Smolensky, M. H., Gadacha, W., Khedaier, A., Sani, M.,\u2026 Boughamni, N. G. 2016. Blooming rhythms of cactus Cereus peruvianus with nocturnal peak at full moon during seasons of prolonged daytime photoperiod. Chronobiology International, 33(4): 419-430. https:\/\/ doi.org\/10.3109\/07420528.2016.1157082 11 Moore, B. 2019. The effect of the lunar cycle on the female reproductive system. South Carolina Junior Academy of Science. https:\/\/scholarexchange.furman. edu\/scjas\/2019\/all\/242\/ Acknowledgments I thank my wife, Tshering Bawa, for encouraging me to write this manuscript when I first discussed the idea with her almost twenty-five years ago. A series of discussions with Rohini Nilekani about Brahma Kamal (Epiphyllum oxypetalum), a nocturnal blooming cactus from Mexico and South America, but widely naturalized in Asia, was another source of inspiration. Meena Narayanswamy suggested several improvements in the manuscript. Kamaljit S. Bawa is president of the Ashoka Trust for Research in Ecology and the Environment (ATREE), Bengaluru, India, and distinguished professor emeritus at the University of Massachusetts, Boston. Intertwined Lives 67"},{"has_event_date":0,"type":"arnoldia","title":"Otherworldly Wingnuts: Pterocarya x rehderiana","article_sequence":10,"start_page":68,"end_page":69,"url":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/\/action\/directLinkImage?assetId=25745","featured_photo":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/servlet\/display?file=b34509f9d4e0d160b726.jpg","volume":78,"issue_number":"5-6","year":2021,"series":null,"season":null,"authors":"","article_content":"A rarely visited corner at the Arnold Arboretum is nestled beneath the tall stone wall that separates the hickory collection from traffic on Centre Street. In late summer, the area feels otherworldly. The heavy overstory filters the light and cools the air; the humidity seems to increase; and densely planted shrubs block out the surrounding views and noises. The corner is dominated by a planting of seemingly colossal hybrid wingnuts (Pterocarya x rehderiana), with their drooping Spanish moss-like fruits and twisted forms. Standing next to their large multistemmed trunks can make you feel miniature. Wingnuts are closely related to hickories (Carya) and walnuts (Juglans). There are six species of Pterocarya, with native ranges clustered in China, Japan, Southeast Asia, and the Caucuses. In addition to cultivating representatives of five of the six species, the Arnold Arboretum has eight specimens of this unusual hybrid, all of which grow in this out-of-the-way corner. The oldest of the eight originated at the Arboretum from seed sent, in 1879, by Pierre Alphonse Lavall\u00e9e of the Arboretum de Segrez, outside of Paris. At the time, the Arboretum de Segrez was one of the largest in the world (and a noteworthy landscape where Marcel Proust once suffered an asthma attack but still managed to write a poem about its beauty). Lavall\u00e9e collected the seeds from a Chinese wingnut (P. stenoptera) in his arboretum, and, once they germinated in Boston, the seedlings were planted along Centre Street. Two decades later, Alfred Rehder, an Arnold Arboretum taxonomist, noticed that the trees didn't look quite like the Chinese wingnut. \"The trees in the Arnold, known as Pterocarya stenoptera \u2026 I can no longer consider, after much study, as the real species of that name,\" Rehder wrote to the German Dendrological Society in 1903, \"but now consider [them] a cross between this and P. fraxinifolia [the Caucasian wingnut], which in its characteristics almost exactly stops between the two species.\" Rehder hypothesized that pollen from a Caucasian wingnut growing at the Arboretum de Segrez must have landed on the flowers of a Chinese wingnut growing nearby. We don't know who collected and brought the Chinese and Caucasian wingnuts to Paris, but it may well have been the first time that the two species, normally separated by the thousands of miles between the Caucasus Mountains and eastern China, were growing in the same place. Rehder conferred with Camillo Schneider, a taxonomist working at the Vienna Natural History Museum, who agreed with Rehder's assessment. Based on their correspondence, Schneider published the first botanical description of the new hybrid in 1906. Writing in German in the Illustriertes Handbuch der Laubholzkunde, he identified the unique characteristics of the buds and rachises of the \"Bastardes\" growing at the Arnold Arboretum and officially named the hybrid for his friend, choosing the Latin name Pterocarya x rehderiana. Four trees (accession 1191) from Lavall\u00e9e's 1879 shipment still grow along the Centre Street wall, hidden behind the hickory collection. In addition, four neighboring trees (23119) were accessioned as seedlings from the original trees. When the wingnuts fruit in midsummer, they offer a dazzling display of long, pendulous clusters of winged nutlets (hence the common name) that dangle from what seems like every branch. One particularly large specimen, accession 1191*E, has an incredible form, with leaders that shoot up more than 125 feet and droop over the Works Progress Administrationconstructed bus shelter on Centre Street. As with many hybrids, Pterocarya x rehderiana seems to display hybrid vigor and, according to Rehder, are \"much hardier and more satisfactory than their supposed parents.\" A windstorm in October 2020 took out one of the leaders from accession 1191*E, but overall, the hybrids don't seem terribly affected by the cold New England winter, even after more than 140 years growing at the Arboretum. While the hybrids are a product of a chance cross that would likely have never been possible in the wild, the trees have more than claimed their uncanny home. Jared Rubinstein is an associate project manager at the Arnold Arboretum. For more on the taxonomic history of the Rehder wingnut, see his 2020 article with Michael Dosmann in Novon, issue 28(4). Otherworldly Wingnuts: Pterocarya x rehderiana Jared Rubinstein RUBINSTEIN, J. 2021. OTHERWORLDLY WINGNUTS: PTEROCARYA x REHDERIANA. ARNOLDIA, 78(5-6): 68-69"},{"arnoldia_cover":true,"has_event_date":0,"type":"arnoldia","url":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/\/action\/directLinkImage?assetId=25699","featured_photo":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/servlet\/display?file=b34509f9d4e0d270af27.jpg","title":"2021-78-5-6","volume":78,"issue_number":"5-6","year":2021,"series":null,"season":null},{"has_event_date":0,"type":"arnoldia","title":"Field Botany in the Time of COVID-19","article_sequence":1,"start_page":2,"end_page":6,"url":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/\/action\/directLinkImage?assetId=25729","featured_photo":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/servlet\/display?file=b34509f9d4e0d25eb328.jpg","volume":78,"issue_number":4,"year":2021,"series":null,"season":null,"authors":"Brown, Emma; Maynard, Brian","article_content":"The students in our University of Rhode Island field botany class exclaimed with surprise as they tried to balance atop lopsided hummocks of tussock sedge (Carex stricta). The mounds arose between expanses of boot-sucking sphagnum moss. Red cranberries (Vaccinium macrocarpon) dotted the shimmering surface around them. This was the first time most of the students had seen cranberries in the wild\u2014a powerful learning moment. Memories of the sour explosion of the cranberries would become associated with the comradery of learning how to differentiate this flowing fen from a typical bog\u2014or how to identify the three-way sedge (Dulichium arundinaceum) on the fen's edge and the delicate beaked sedge (Rhynchospora capitellata) breezily waving in the center of the scene. Six months later, in March 2020, the pandemic had hit. As university classes pivoted online, we, as instructors, were forced to figure out how the unique shared experiences of the previous fall's classes, held in the field, could be translated meaningfully into a remote format for the upcoming summer and fall offerings. Field Botany and Taxonomy has been taught at the University of Rhode Island since the late 1940s. Professor Elmer Palmatier, a local botanical legend, established the class and was known to say: \"There should be no monotony when studying your botany.\" His legacy\u2014 students quickly learning hundreds of wild plants\u2014has been maintained by a lineage of memorable naturalists. Today, it continues in summer and fall classes led by Professor Brian Maynard, botanist Robin Baranowski, and their teaching assistants. The summer is an intense marathon to identify every plant found between late May and the end of June\u2014over 300 plants in a typical term. The sessions are composed of fast-paced, four-hour meetings, held four days a week. In the more traditional fourteen-week fall semester, the class heads out together twice a week to explore natural habitats around Rhode Island and identify about 250 plant taxa using sight, scent, texture, and even taste. Students collect and bind samples in herbarium presses for both courses and are constantly quizzed on plant names in the field. The courses cover both native and naturalized plants, with detailed units on grasses and mosses. The fall session becomes a race against time, given the threat of frost, and attention turns to autumn colors and winter twig characteristics. The coronavirus pandemic forced virtually all college courses online, many for the first time. Higher education as we knew it would change dramatically. While adequate tools for online education have been around for nearly two decades, most professors and students of the natural sciences had little experience with online learning, as it had never been necessary before. Now we had just a few weeks to move our courses entirely online before students returned from an extended spring break. Our most significant concern\u2014other than fears about keeping ourselves and our students safe from COVID-19\u2014was that we would not be able to provide our students with the quintessential field botany course experience. After much deliberation, we settled on a progressive learning structure that involved \"flipping\" the course. Instead of loading students up with plants to memorize through the usual sage-on-the-stage approach, we would hold the students responsible for finding and identifying plants on their own. While the traditional field course had emphasized learning a shared list of plants, this version would prioritize the development of skills that students could employ to identify any plant they encountered. Using an online learning platform called Brightspace, we created a series of modular lessons about the major groups of plants: wildflowers, trees and shrubs, ferns, and grasses. Each module included daily activities to train students on identifying the plants that they Field Botany in the Time of COVID-19 Emma Brown and Brian Maynard When Field Botany and Taxonomy at the University of Rhode Island went remote during the pandemic, the authors found that online tools like iNaturalist supported independent and flexible learning. This iNaturalist map from the summer term shows the wide distribution of class observations. MAP COURTESY INATURALIST; PLANT PHOTO BY SARAH MCDONOUGH found on their own. We centered these activities around multimedia tutorials on how to navigate four different field manuals (one for each major plant group) and two of the online keying systems found on the Native Plant Trust's GoBotany website. This was the first time we had used online keys for the class. The students would identify plants using the field manual or online keying system taught each week and then document their observations with photographs and notes using iNaturalist, a citizen-scientist app and website. These digital herbarium vouchers, as we call them, were formated according to a template we developed and took the place of the herbarium collection the students would have created for the inperson class. The new keying and vouchering skills of our students culminated in a capstone project. Each student designed a vegetation survey in a nearby natural area safely accessible during the pandemic. Students used iNaturalist to record the plants found along a transect line, pacing step-by-step and pausing at regular intervals to document the plant species encountered. The integration of iNaturalist into the class and requiring a vegetation survey were other firsts for the course. The summer session began in late May 2020 with eighteen students enrolled. Instruction was entirely asynchronous, meaning students could watch presentations and complete assignments on their own schedule. Students communicated with us by email, text, phone, and video calls. Challenges included making sure students had the necessary technology and access to natural spaces. We also needed to ensure that students understood the language of botany and, perhaps most importantly, that they could distinguish between native or naturalized plants and those in managed landscapes (which might not be found in their field guides). Fortunately, most students had smartphones that automatically tagged the photos uploaded to iNaturalist with GPS data. After keying and identifying a plant, the student would create a voucher with three clear images taken in the field and a description of the plant's shape, foliage characteristics, and other identification features. We guided students through the process of taking clear images. As a set, the photos should zoom to capture the entire plant silhouette, the branch arrangement, and finally up-close details of foliage, twigs, and flowers. Vouchers also included the steps used to identify the plant in the specified field guide, a link for that plant to the Consortium of Northeast Herbaria (a digital collection of herbarium sheets from dozens of herbaria), and an image of the plant on a plain white background with a digital herbarium label. The students posted the photos and notes to the class iNaturalist page, where the instructors, teaching assistants, and other iNaturalist users confirmed or challenged their identification. As new observations popped up on the iNaturalist map for the class, the difference from the in-person course was apparent. Instead of everyone learning the same plant in the same location, all in Rhode Island, we now racked up twenty-three unique records of sensitive fern (Onoclea sensibilis) from southern Maine to Philadelphia. One student reported plants sighted in a Maine salt marsh. Another documented vegetation in Manhattan parks. Each week, the students expanded one voucher into a presentation and posted it to a discussion blog. The presentations included a range map and notes on plant family characteristics, habitat, ecological relationships, and historical human uses. Blog conversations around these presentations became surprisingly animated: students enjoyed finding similarities in their plant-hunting adventures and learning new facts about plants they had also discovered, as well as about plants they had never seen before. Our learners went above and beyond our expectations by sharing photographs of the habitats and wildlife surrounding their botanical entries. Pictures of herons flew back and forth in the discussion posts, along with wild tales of adventurous plant-hunting escapades. Even a cinnamon-colored housecat participated in the fun as a model to show the size of cinnamon fern (Osmundastrum cinnamomeum) fronds against a large enough white surface for the digital herbarium voucher. These blog entries fostered engagement and interactions that we had thought were only possible in person, when we could walk back to the vans afer foraging cranberries, with fen water sloshing in our boots and conversations gushing. As it turned out, the blogs still allowed 4 Arnoldia 78\/4 \u2022 May 2021 the students to share their experiences with excitement and passion. In the last week of the class, the vegetation survey capstone tested the students' plant identification skills. After proposing a study area (which ranged from vacant lots to pristine forests), each student walked their transect and identified every plant species they found, posted their findings on iNaturalist, and produced a final report that they shared with the class. As the course unfolded, we found that the switch to the online format had created new learning opportunities. Students continued hands-on learning with greater independence. Resources designed for the course could be reused by students time and again, and we improved accessibility by captioning videos and narrating PowerPoints. Several students completed classwork from out of state, adding to the diversity of plants that the class found. The asynchronous schedule allowed students with personal or work obligations to participate fully. While our students all reflected that the course was time-intensive, they enjoyed the motivation to spend more time outdoors each week. After our success with eighteen summer students, we took stock of what worked best and ramped up for a fall course of fifty students. We ended up using many of the same tools developed for the summer class, but the material was now spread out over ten weeks and focused on the vegetation we would encounter in New England in late summer and fall. An added challenge of the pandemic was that students were scattered far and wide\u2014from Maine to Philadelphia\u2014 and could be forced into lock-down or quarantine at any time. For quarantined students, we prepared contingency samples, which included collections of photos and descriptions of habitat and plant characteristics that we observed in the field. While many fall students still attended remotely, we were finally permitted to meet in person, in small recitation groups, if students could get to campus. Twice a week, we helped up to five in-person students at a time with their keying and plant vouchers. We were initially concerned that students would learn only a fraction of the usual number of plants, but these concerns were assuaged by the depth of knowledge the students acquired Students created \"digitial herbarium vouchers\" for the class. Each voucher included at least three photographs of the plant in the field and one photograph showing the plant against a white background. ROBIN BARANOWSKI 6 Arnoldia 78\/4 \u2022 May 2021 for each plant and the confidence they gained in keying on their own. Across the summer and fall classes, our students posted nearly three thousand individual observations to iNaturalist\u2014about 360 unique species in each class. This number far surpassed the 300 or so plants taught in the past. Moreover, our students can now apply their plant identification skills anywhere in the world. We foresee that these tech-savvy citizen scientists will continue to use iNaturalist, including for BioBlitzes, which are intense twenty-four-hour events in which groups find and identify as many species of life as possible in a specific area. In explaining to our students how to learn their plants, we always stress that the best way to learn is to teach. The act of teaching others is a higher-level step in the learning process. The same students who initially had shied at the prospect of the online format shared plans to use their new knowledge for future careers and reported passing along what they had learned to friends and family. A select few students admitted to not liking plants before this class but noted that they learned to appreciate and even love the plants they encountered. Even as we return to in-person instruction this summer, we will use many of the tools we developed in 2020. We have committed to teaching a blended (online and in-person) field botany course to thirty-six students this fall. Moving forward, we expect to keep several of the teaching strategies that encourage independence and foster flexibility: keying modules, digital plant vouchers, a vegetation survey capstone experience, and the integration of iNaturalist and GoBotany. We are growing with the plants we teach. While the format may be different, the class is definitely a new sport off an old tree that we will continue to cultivate. For more information Visit our class iNaturalist sites at https:\/\/www.inaturalist. org\/projects\/uri-bio-323-summer-2020 and https:\/\/www. inaturalist.org\/projects\/uri-bio-323-fall-2020. GoBotany\u2014the Native Plant Trust's online tool for plant identification\u2014can be accessed at https:\/\/ gobotany.nativeplanttrust.org\/. This provided a valuable complement to the four field manuals that we also taught: Newcomb's Wildflower Guide by Lawrence Newcomb and Gordon Morrison, A Field Guide to Trees and Shrubs by George Petrides and Roger Tory Peterson, Northeast Ferns by Steve Chadde, and Grasses, Sedges, and Rushes by Lauren Brown and Ted Elliman. Acknowledgment Thanks to iNatauralist for permission to republish the map in this article. iNaturalist is a joint initiative of the California Academy of Sciences and the National Geographic Society. Emma Brown is completing her master of science degree at the University of Rhode Island and writing a thesis analyzing the experience of taking field-based courses online during the pandemic. This summer, she will return to her native Delaware, where she practices horticulture and compiles the Delaware Native Plant Society newsletter. Brian Maynard is a professor in the Department of Plant Sciences and Entomology at the University of Rhode Island. He teaches courses in plant propagation and production, landscape management, arboriculture, and field botany. Brian received the Gold Medal Award from the Massachusetts Horticulture Society in 2009 and the Award of Merit from the International Plant Propagator's Society in 2016. Students also submitted detailed notes with each digital herbaruim voucher. This section describes the steps taken to identify periwinkle (Vinca minor) using Newcomb's Wildflower Guide and also includes a link to a digitized specimen of this species at an herbarium. ROBIN BARANOWSKI"},{"has_event_date":0,"type":"arnoldia","title":"The Conference Must Go On","article_sequence":2,"start_page":7,"end_page":9,"url":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/\/action\/directLinkImage?assetId=25730","featured_photo":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/servlet\/display?file=b34509f9d4e0d25eb36c.jpg","volume":78,"issue_number":4,"year":2021,"series":null,"season":null,"authors":"Iles, Jeff","article_content":"The Conference Must Go On Jeff Iles Like a shimmering mirage on some lonely two-lane blacktop, the end of our global pandemic remained out of reach during the last academic year. No backyard barbeque with humans from another pod. No hockey games or theatre. No going anywhere sans facial covering. In my circle of fellow plant nerds, in-person trade shows and educational conferences topped the list of favorite social events that vanished. Remember those days? Striding up to the registration desk, receiving your official conference name badge, pawing through a complimentary tote bag filled with an eclectic assortment of swag, and then rushing off to the opening plenary session and, without giving it a second thought, sitting next to, or even shaking hands with, your randomly chosen seatmate. As 2020 dragged on and the 2021 conference season loomed on the horizon, it became abundantly clear to conference planners that inperson, traditional educational events were not a possibility, at least not for events scheduled for prime conference season between January and March. But the show must go on, right? This was my challenge as I contemplated strategies for keeping the flame alive for an educational conference I've managed since 1995: the annual Iowa State University Shade Tree Short Course, held on the university campus in Ames, Iowa. The event, which was heralding its sixty-fifth year in 2021, was the brainchild of Harold \"Sande\" McNabb, a forest pathologist at Iowa State. As the story goes, Dutch elm disease and its assault on our American elm (Ulmus americana) provided the impetus for the first gathering, which occurred at the McNabb residence. Now, many years later, the short course has become the can't-miss event for arborists and allied industry professionals in Iowa and surrounding states, drawing well over six hundred participants annually and featuring notable presenters like the late Alex Shigo, who encouraged us to \"touch trees\" and learn about their biology, care, and responses to wounding via compartmentalization. The themes, points of emphasis, and methods of instruction (handson workshops are always popular) vary from year to year. So, too, does the number of presenters (approximately thirty). But we never stray too far from discussing the benefits and maintenance requirements of these large, lifebreathing, woody friends. Not to overstate the importance of this conference or my hand in bringing it to fruition, but there can be no denying that the Shade Tree Short Course has earned its reputation as a trusted platform for arboricultural and horticultural education in Iowa and the upper Midwest. As the new year dawned, I felt an almost parental responsibility for the conference\u2014in part to continue McNabb's steadfast tradition, but also, even more importantly, to continue serving our loyal audience, some having attended since the late 1970s. Of course, our short course was not alone in facing this dilemma. Seemingly every educational conference around the country (even the world) was simultaneously confronted with the same set of circumstances and arrived at the same conclusion: \"If we're gonna do this, we're gonna have to go online.\" The world of video conferencing is a frightening place\u2014or at least it was for me. My fear was born out of the personal experience of witnessing even the simplest of virtual meetings with a handful of participants devolve into realtime lessons in frustration and futility. Who hasn't experienced the same? Poor or indecipherable audio. Low bandwidth prompting the meeting host to switch faces and voices into muted squares with names. Video conference platforms requiring tedious and sometimes confusing downloads\u2014and yet another password. If the downloads had required social security numbers and bank account information, I wouldn't have been surprised. Of course, I'm exaggerating for effect, but for those who grew up using technological advances such as the telephone, fax machine, electric typewriter, and those cute little personal computers (a.k.a., word processing machines) from the mid-1980s, 8 Arnoldia 78\/4 \u2022 May 2021 The Iowa State University Shade Tree Short Course is an annual conference that draws well over six hundred participants. In 2021, the event went online. JEFF ISLES Shade Tree Short Course 9 receiving a link that, if it worked, would transform desktop computers into portals to another realm could be a bridge too far. But what other choice did I have? Enter my grand plan. Historically, the Shade Tree Short Course takes place over two full days, but I knew that convincing an audience accustomed to working outdoors to stare at a computer screen for two solid days was going to be a nonstarter and, by extension, could have a dampening effect on attendance. Instead, I reasoned smaller chunks of virtual interaction and educational content would be far more palatable. Therefore, with wise counsel and advice from a university conference coordinator, we devised a week-long event at the end of February. Presentations would begin at eight in the morning and wrap up most days by eleven. Next, we needed to determine a fair registration fee for a virtual conference. Because I no longer had to worry about transporting and feeding my presenters, nor feeding participants, and because the number of educational sessions was reduced from previous years, I knew the registration fee used in 2020 ($170 early and $220 late) had to be reduced. With the intent of covering my remaining expenses (conference management fee and speaker honoraria), we decided on $40 for early registration and $55 for those coming late to the party. We also offered a reduced fee for university staff and students. But had I gone too far? In my attempt to provide an affordable product that would maintain registration numbers at least at a break-even point, had I committed the unforgivable sin of devaluing my own conference? As it turns out, full value for conference attendees was never in doubt thanks to the impressive lineup of speakers who, to a person, agreed at once to participate. And, to their credit, many graciously reduced or declined to accept their standard speaker fee, an acknowledgment perhaps of the reduced time commitment for a virtual conference. As the first day of the Shade Tree Short Course approached, however, one problem continued to silently orbit my conference, and its threat was potentially devastating: we needed to find the right video-conferencing platform. My unease was validated during a preconference practice session when our chosen video-conferencing platform performed in a less-than-satisfactory way. Most of my presenters were unfamiliar with the platform and found it user-unfriendly. When the same old audio problems surfaced, I knew it was time for plan B. Much to my relief, equipped with an alternate and reliable virtual conferencing platform and even a dose of unseasonably good late-winter weather (a nice touch even though we didn't need it), everything went swimmingly. No, we weren't able to offer the traditional scope of topics and workshops (over forty-five concurrent sessions spread over two days), but the aforementioned cadre of top-quality speakers made up for any deficiency in quantity. In the end, we attracted an audience of over 370 participants, including many longtime attendees and a few who'd never attended the short course before. In fact, many first-timers remarked that they attended in 2021 only because the program was offered online. And therein lies my next problem. Now that we've explored the realm of virtual education and witnessed its many benefits (the chat room was incredibly popular), many attendees would like our short course to preserve and integrate aspects of virtual programming in all future conferences. Ideally, a hybrid version could allow attendees to select from in-person sessions that would either be livestreamed or recorded for viewing later. In the end, cost and practicality will dictate the feasibility of such a hybrid model. Honestly, my preference would be for a return to our triedand- tested in-person roots; however, I also must allow for and accept that, in so many ways, the world has changed. This not-so-sudden immersion into the world of virtual conferencing has transformed the thinking of this reluctant conference chair. I now possess a new set of skills and have thoughtfully reconsidered what an educational conference should be. Just the same, while I can freely agree that learning doesn't necessarily require in-person, face-to-face interaction, virtual conferencing will always fall short as a replacement for engaging conversation around the coffee dispenser, in the buffet line, or gathered inside the pub at day's end. Jeff Iles is professor and chair of the Department of Horticulture at Iowa State University, in Ames, Iowa."},{"has_event_date":0,"type":"arnoldia","title":"Into the Valley of <i>Parrotia</i>","article_sequence":3,"start_page":10,"end_page":15,"url":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/\/action\/directLinkImage?assetId=25731","featured_photo":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/servlet\/display?file=b34509f9d4e0d25eb76f.jpg","volume":78,"issue_number":4,"year":2021,"series":null,"season":null,"authors":"Douglas, Phillip; Sj\u00f6man, Henrik","article_content":"The triumph and anguish of plant collectors can often be summed up with a single word: timing. No matter how well an expedition has been planned, collectors often confront either empty capsules or immature fruits. At other times, however, the fates align. In September of 2017, we embarked with colleagues on a collecting expedition to Azerbaijan, searching for multiple species poorly represented in botanical collections. The Persian ironwood (Parrotia persica) was our primary target, and for this species, our timing could hardly have been more auspicious. The Persian ironwood is an ornamental workhorse in the witch-hazel family (Hamamelidaceae) and is one of two species in its genus. Documented collections of Parrotia persica in public gardens tend to be from nurseries, and plants of known wild provenance are mostly sourced from populations in Iran. Although descriptions of the species' range tend to focus on the Alborz Mountains in northern Iran, plants do not typically recognize geopolitical boundaries, and thriving populations of Parrotia also exist in areas of the Hyrcanian forest and the Talysh Mountains of southern Azerbaijan. The flora in these biomes is considered a relict of a forest type that was much more widespread before glaciation events in the Quaternary, starting around two and a half million years ago. The Talysh region, in particular, includes more than ninety endemic species.1 Herbarium vouchers for Parrotia indicate a disjunct population in the country of Georgia, but it is widely believed these specimens were planted. In mid-September, our team departed the Azeri capital city of Baku and drove southward along the coast towards Lankaran. The trip had been organized by the Plant Collecting Collaborative, an organization consisting of eighteen botanical institutions, and our collaborators on the trip included Peter Zale from Longwood Gardens, Matt Lobdell from the Morton Arboretum, and Vince Marrocco from the Morris Arboretum. Vast agricultural fields dominate this landscape along the Caspian Sea, irrigated with the waters of the Kura River, which flows throughout the Caucasus region. Cotton, tea, grapes, and various citrus trees are the primary crops. Along the drive, we saw roadside plantings of Quercus castaneifolia, the chestnutleaved oak, which was another one of our species of interest. These plantings were the first we saw of the species in the country. After a long and bumpy drive, we were met in Lankaran by Hajiaga Safarov, deputy director of science at Hirkan National Park. Hajiaga committed his career to exploring southern Azerbaijan, documenting the flora and fauna. He graciously agreed to guide us over the next three days and assured us that he knew of several populations of Parrotia persica in the area. Departing from our hotel the following morning, Hajiaga led our team southwest of the city to the rural farming village of Az Filial. As we gained elevation, the paved highway soon ended, and we continued driving on a hard-packed, single-lane road. Cresting the top of a small hill, we suddenly found ourselves in the middle of Parrotia-dominant forest. Scant herbaceous vegetation existed under the canopy of these magnificent trees, a result of intense grazing pressure from the surrounding farms. We parked under the shaded canopy of ironwoods and began to hear tapping on the car's roof, as though a light rain were passing over. The cloudless sky was not precipitating; the sound we heard was something much more miraculous. Plants in the witch-hazel family exhibit a unique form of seed dispersal. As the capsules of Parrotia persica begin to dry, the exterior walls (technically the exocarp) shrink in size and begin to apply pressure to the seed, causing its forceful ejection. This method of seed dispersal\u2014the so-called drying squeeze catapult2\u2014was the source of the light raining sound. When we exited our vehicle, we witnessed small, black seeds bouncing off the roof Into the Valley of Parrotia Phillip Douglas and Henrik Sj\u00f6man DOUGLAS, P. AND SJ\u00d6MAN, H. 2021. INTO THE VALLEY OF PARROTIA. ARNOLDIA, 78(4): 10-15 The Persian ironwood (Parrotia persica) fills a valley near Lerik, Azerbaijan. When the authors first encountered this overlook in 2017, the diversity of fall color and form was unmistakable. This photo was taken on a return trip in 2019. ALL PHOTOS BY PHILLIP DOUGLAS UNLESS NOTED and hood. In a marvelous turn of fate, we had timed our trip to document and collect Parrotia at the most advantageous time. Witnessing the forceful ejection of these seeds only added to the intrigue of the species. All hands worked quickly to obtain fruits that had not yet dehisced. We gathered several hundred capsules from throughout the population. Diversity in the Wild The Hyrcanian forests extend from southern Azerbaijan into Iran, wrapping around the southern coast of the Caspian Sea. In Azerbaijan, Parrotia occurs at elevations between sea level and around 1,600 feet (500 meters). Strong cultural influences of forest grazing, active felling of trees for firewood, and coppicing for fencing materials and winter feed have transformed the landscape. Farmers also coppice trees to minimize the shading of valuable meadow environments that provide winter fodder for sheep, cattle, and goats. The extensive coppicing in this region has made it difficult to see the natural habitat and variability of Parrotia. Examining the approximately fifty trees within the small population that we first encountered, it quickly became clear that an impressive amount of genetic variability was present. Bark characteristics alone were distinctly different, with variation including creamy, dappled camouflage mottling and golden, iridescent, paperthin flakes. It was far too early in autumn to see any fall color in this population, but we suspected that variation might exist for this trait as well. After making another collection from a heavily fruited Caucasian zelkova (Zelkova carpinifolia), we departed from the site and headed farther south towards the Hirkan National Park. Driving along the Lerik-Lankaran highway, we saw the Talysh Mountains begin to slowly build elevation as the forested areas became more dispersed between meadows and xeric terrain. Hajiaga was leading us to a historic cemetery and mosque outside the village of Babagil. In addition to Parrotia, our group was targeting several other unique woody species: the chestnut-leaved oak and a subspecies of the common boxwood that is endemic to southern Azerbaijan, Buxus sempervirens subsp. hyrcana. We encountered both species outside of the cemetery and mosque. This site dates to the sixteenth century and contains many enormous planted specimens of Caucasian zelkova and chestnut-leaved oak. Across the road from the cemetery is a remnant piece of the The first population of Parrotia persica that the authors visited in Azerbaijan revealed a typical, overgrazed understory. Yet the trees displayed variable and unique bark. Parrotia 13 Hyrcanian forest. Here, we discovered large boxwood growing in the heavy shade of Parrotia persica. Just beyond the roadway, we encountered our first large specimens of the chestnut-leaved oak. They created a towering forest canopy over 65 feet (20 meters) tall, with trunk diameters reaching over 3 feet (1 meter). Unfortunately, these two species develop seed at the opposite ends of autumn; the boxwood had already dehisced, and the oaks were not yet ripe enough for collection. We were able to make a large collection of intact seed capsules from the Parrotia on the property. This collection, at 1,510 feet (460 meters), marked the highest elevation at which we found Parrotia growing, and it should make for an interesting evaluation for cold hardiness. Departing westward, our group continued towards Lerik, a historic mountain town perched at 3,600 feet (1100 meters), overlooking the border with Iran. Gazing southward from the windows of our vehicles, we came across a magnificent sight: a sprawling forest of Parrotia persica filled the expansive valley beneath us. Towering velvet maple (Acer velutinum) dominated the upland areas, and enormous Caucasian alder (Alnus subcordata) were dotted along a slow-moving creek. Azerbaijan had been plagued in 2017 with a major drought, leaving the herbaceous layer completely dormant in autumn and adversely affecting the quality of autumn color. Despite this drought, the Parrotia in this valley showed deep hues of burgundy, red, orange, and yellow. Throughout this population, a diversity of form was also present. We noted many trees with dense conical crowns and a strong branching hierarchy. These structural characteristics would be well suited for trees selected for urban plantings. We were unable to access the forest because we had much more work ahead of us, but the memory of this valley remained with us after the trip. A Return to the Valley In late October 2019, the two of us traveled again to Azerbaijan to attempt collecting the chestnut-leaved oak from throughout its northern range. Similar to Parrotia persica, this species only occurs in the mountains of southern Azerbaijan and northern Iran. Its acorns don't fully ripen until late in the season, and we hoped to collect them before they fell to the ground, where insects and herbivores can render them useless. The drive south from Baku to Lankaran took half of the time during this trip, as construction of a multilane freeway had been completed, connecting Baku to Tehran, Iran. Our failure to collect acorns from this rare oak had haunted us for the past two years, and we were eager to determine if we had properly timed our trip. The landscape throughout southern Azerbaijan looked vastly different compared to 2017. Precipitation had fallen evenly through the year, and the previously dormant herbaceous layer was putting on an amazing show. The meadows surrounding the Babagil cemetery and mosque were filled with flowering geophytes. Two species of crocus (Crocus speciosus and C. caspius) carpeted the landscape and appeared almost as a monoculture lawn in areas that were heavily grazed. Pink-flowered cyclamen (Cyclamen coum) dotted the shaded understory of the endemic boxwood. The flowering spectacle was a wonderful sign of good seed development, and we were able to make three separate collections of chestnut-leaved oak at elevations ranging from 1,540 to 2,900 feet (470 to 900 meters). After finishing our oak collecting early, we had time to indulge in the forests of Parrotia persica. As we drove along the highway from Lerik, back to our accommodations outside of Lankaran, we made a familiar stop to gaze across the valley of Parrotia that we had discovered two years before. Our timing was once again rewarded with amazing views of the valley in full autumn colors. It is difficult to describe the array of colors. Individual trees within the canopy exhibited shades of deep burgundy, brick red, orange, and buttery yellow. We decided to use our remaining day of the trip to attempt to access and document this population. We collected GPS coordinates and headed back to our accommodations to plan the next day's work. After looking over various maps and satellite images, we were able to devise a way to drive as close as possible to the ridgeline across the valley, where several small houses stood. Our goal was to closely examine the trees in this population, taking photographs to document autumn color and differences in form. Trees The authors ventured into the valley of Parrotia in late October 2019. Fall color took on rich variation. Trees with dense, pyramidal habits (left) suggest exceptional potential for urban plantings. Phillip Douglas (bottom right) stands with a large Parrotia observed at another location earlier in the trip. HENRIK SJ\u00d6MAN Parrotia 15 with exceptional qualities would be geotagged so that we could return to them for propagation material in the coming years. The following morning, we departed the hotel and headed towards the valley, excited by the prospect of getting to walk beneath the canopy of the relict forest. The paved road quickly turned into a dirt path, and after crossing over a shallow creek, it became a deeply rutted, muddy quagmire. Our translator and driver, Ilgar Guliyev, guided us through the terrain with expert precision. We soon found ourselves parked outside of a small farmhouse, and Ilgar went in to inquire about accessing the valley below the property. After a short conversation with the owners, we were informed that the valley belonged to the state, and our collecting permits would allow us access to the site. Basing our navigation on several massive chestnut-leaved oaks and oriental beech (Fagus orientalis) along the top of the ridge and a group of towering Caucasian alder at the bottom, we began traversing towards several Parrotia we had photographed the day before. The first selection that we documented exhibited a uniform, brick-red autumn color throughout the canopy. We continued to traverse up and down the steep slopes of the hill, documenting selections with peachy-pink autumn color, dense and pyramidal habits, and even dappled burgundy and green foliage. The diversity of the species within this singular valley was amazing to see. We hope to return to the valley in late spring to obtain scion wood from these selections to begin growing and evaluating their performance in various climates and conditions. From the Wild, Into Cultivation The study and documentation of plants in situ is a valuable means of determining species that are well suited for urban horticulture and other specific uses. In Lankaran, we were also able to see how Parrotia persica has been used locally in extensive urban plantings. The species could be seen in park environments as well as in small curbside planter spaces. The hot, dry summers of Lankaran coupled with challenging site conditions of urban environments did not seem to affect this highly adaptable species. As a street tree, the species often becomes too wide, resulting in unflattering pruning efforts, but this issue could be solved with more intentional selection. As we had observed, an extensive variation in the size and expression of Parrotia occurs in the wild, suggesting the fantastic development potential of the species for public plantations in both Europe and North America. In cultivation, Parrotia is mainly represented by seed-propagated material, which results in large variations, making it difficult to predict mature size and habit. Presently, cultivars of Parrotia persica available on the market include 'Vanessa', 'Ruby Vase', and 'Persian Spire', which all represent narrow-growing forms. Based on our field observations, the species has significantly more expressions that deserve to be evaluated in cultivation. We hope to develop new cultivars of this species that will have uniform size and fall color characteristics. The species' adaptability to periods of intense heat and dry soil conditions, coupled with its tolerance for high pH soils, makes it a perfect candidate for further development as an urban tree. Hopefully, we will once again be blessed with perfect timing to collect from these populations and continue working with this relict species. Endnotes 1 Safarov, H. M. 2009. Rare and endangered plant species in Hirkan National Park and its environs. In N. Zazanashvili and D. Mallon (Eds.). Status and protection of globally threatened species in the Caucasus (pp. 193-198). Tbilisi: CEPF, WWF. 2 Poppinga, S., B\u00f6se, A. S., Seidel, R., Hesse, L., Leupold, J., Caliaro, S., and Speck, T. 2019. A seed flying like a bullet: Ballistic seed dispersal in Chinese witch-hazel (Hamamelis mollis Oliv., Hamamelidaceae). Journal of the Royal Society Interface, 16(157): 1-10. http:\/\/ doi.org\/10.1098\/rsif.2019.0327 Acknowledgment This work would not have been possible without the guidance and expertise of our partners at the Azerbaijan National Academy of Sciences, Institute of Botany and Central Botanical Garden of Azerbaijan, and the Hirkan National Park of the Ministry of Ecology and Natural Resources, Republic of Azerbaijan. Funding was generously provided by the Daniel F. and Ada L. Rice Foundation. Our work is dedicated in memoriam of Dr. Hajiaga Safarov (March 1, 1963-November 17, 2018). Phillip Douglas is the director of plant collections for the Chicago Botanic Garden and also serves as the chair of the Plant Collecting Collaborative. Henrik Sj\u00f6man is a senior researcher at the Swedish University of Agricultural Sciences and the scientific curator at the Gothenburg Botanical Garden."},{"has_event_date":0,"type":"arnoldia","title":"","article_sequence":4,"start_page":16,"end_page":23,"url":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/\/action\/directLinkImage?assetId=25732","featured_photo":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/servlet\/display?file=b34509f9d4e0d25ebb27.jpg","volume":78,"issue_number":4,"year":2021,"series":null,"season":null,"authors":"Elkin, Rosetta S.","article_content":"Barrier islands are young landscapes. Although absolute dates are hard to pin down, the barrier islands that ring Florida's coast are only about five thousand years old and represent some of the most dynamic landscapes in the world. In the context of earthly timescales, the islands surfaced at the end of the Stone Age, around the same time that written language was developed in Ancient China and humans began to interact with yeast microorganisms for producing alcohol and bread. At the time, plant life was already well established for millions of years, taking root firmly and resolutely across landscapes that were only slightly more intact than not. Today, Florida's coastline extends 1,350 miles, of which 700 miles are structured by barrier islands that are characterized by urbanization rather than earthly formation. Development is intended to prevent the young landscape from further formation, arresting worth in property value while securing costly infrastructure projects. Young soils are paved and only tend to host disturbance-adapted plants that creep in along built lines, chain-link fences, beachfront terraces, and in the obvious cracks between sidewalks. The most iconic plants are the mangrove species (Rhizophora mangle, Laguncularia racemosa, Avicennia germinans) that silhouette the shoreline, while florific beach sunflowers (Helianthus debilis), green-fruited pond apples (Annona glabra), and sea grapes (Coccoloba uvifera) with dense crowns are commonly found inland. In this setting, few remnants of the barrier island ecology remain amidst the rich imported flora of the mixed tropical and temperate zones. If you consult a map of Florida on your handheld device, the string of thin barrier islands that contour the coast is barely legible. Zooming in yields more clarity between land and water. Each barrier island floats along the shore of the mainland, stitched together by a line of causeways and interstate roads that seem to pull the islands landward, or stop them from moving seaward. Now, zoom in on the west coast near Fort Myers. Here, the stitch is called the Sanibel Causeway, which starts at a small crossing known as Punta Rassa. The causeway is supported by a sandy spit that separates Pine Island Sound from the Gulf of Mexico. The route extends into Periwinkle Way and stretches the length of Sanibel until it turns into the next stitch line at Blind Pass, a managed inlet known for shelling and fishing. Blind Pass is the last stop before arriving on Captiva Island. Consider the same map, and zoom in again on Captiva Island: the gray asphalt of parking lots and sidewalks, the vectorized streets and alleys, and the blank fills of the private space around each foundation. If you search for directions, the route leads you past green golf courses and beige beaches, while the rest of the landscape is defined by different shades of gray. There is no public information beyond the built form, and certainly no recognition of plant life. The lack of public knowledge about plants always strikes me as unusual, although it comes up frequently in my work as a practicing landscape architect and as a professor and An Impermanent Inventory: Plant Collections for a Changing Climate Rosetta S. Elkin \"Permanence doesn't really interest me. My whole focus has been on the activity of my life. Out of the activity has come a mass of works, which are really just evidence that I'm still paying attention.\" \u2014Robert Rauschenberg Facing page: Captiva Island, on the southwestern coast of Florida, is especially vulnerable to the effects of climate change, including sea-level rise. In 2017, the author was commissioned to develop a landscape-adaptation plan for the former home of Robert Rauschenberg on Captiva. A dynamic plant inventory would be essential. ALL IMAGES COURTESY OF THE AUTHOR ELKIN, R. S. 2021. AN IMPERMANENT INVENTORY: PLANT COLLECTIONS FOR A CHANGING CLIMATE. ARNOLDIA, 78(4): 16-23 18 Arnoldia 78\/4 \u2022 May 2021 researcher, studying the interactions between human and plant life. Within landscape architecture, the prominence of pathways and built structures seems to resonate with the public more than careful attention to particular plants. Presumably, this is one reason why landscape architecture is losing plant knowledge.1 So when it comes to finding your way in a new landscape, it is no wonder that the only means of tracking distance and not getting lost are found in the gray surfaces that demarcate outward appearance and built materials. But, as streets are inundated, seawalls fail, and foundations erode, might the endurance of plant life be appreciated in new ways? Designing a Plant Inventory In 2017, I was commissioned to study the changing conditions at the home of Robert Rauschenberg on Captiva Island, in order to propose a landscape-based adaptation plan to the effects of a changing climate.2 These effects include, but are not limited to, sea-level rise. Across Florida, the effects cascade: warmer waters increase the velocity of hurricanes, increased salination threatens drinking water supplies, the blooms of red tide devastate sea life, while blue-green algae amalgamate with heavy erosion to suppress tourism. The risks brought on by our warmer climate are not singular, which is why there is no simple solution. Rauschenberg cared deeply for Captiva both in terms of creative inspiration and also because it appealed to his ideas of impermanence, so elegantly stated in an interview about his art process: \"Permanence doesn't really interest me.\" When we were guided through our first site visit, intricacies of the built landscape were prioritized, including workshops for printmaking and dance studios, a beach house, the main studio, and the historic Fish House\u2014a building perched in the bay.3 Yet, the grounds are most remarkable because they encompass twenty acres of uninterrupted barrier island, a landscape that bridges the bay and the beach sides. Most properties either enjoy views of the beach or the bay, but rarely both. The Rauschenberg campus is verdant and alive with a continuous canopy that distinguishes it from the rest of the island because Rauschenberg valued the dynamic landscape and never sought to arrest and define it. The grounds\u2014now used to host an internationally recognized artist residency program\u2014are so culturally rich and ecologically lively that there was no lack of inspiration, and I was eager to get started. At its widest, Captiva is two thousand feet wide; at its narrowest, only about four hundred feet. The Rauschenberg campus sits along the widest portion. Despite its verdant ecology, a standard map registers gray tones, presumably because private land is not rendered beyond building footprints. As the project began, I sought more detail from standard site plans and surveys, the basis of architectural traditions, anticipating more specificity because Rauschenberg himself was so committed to his plants. In particular, he was committed to maintaining an area that he called the jungle, a ramble of sprouting spontaneous plants that makes up almost half the site.4 Rather, we were handed a site plan that outlined the property lines and included the building footprints, connected by a path system. The rest of the site was white. A site plan without any indication of plants is not only blank; it creates the impression of a landscape devoid of life. As a result, our first act of design was to put the plants back on the map. Creating a plant inventory for a landscape architectural project is not a normative or established convention. But a plant inventory is a curatorial tradition that supports research within the living collections of arboreta and botanic gardens. An inventory charts long-term change and unlocks the puzzles of horticulture, so it is surprising that inventories are not more of a standard in professional practice. The objective of a plant inventory is to document and describe the current status of a collection. Over time, the inventory can be compared to past iterations, revealing landscape changes.5 In turn, this secures a plan for future plantings. A plant inventory must be updated in order to remain dynamic, which requires ongoing interaction in the field. This is especially true because plants move, die back, transform, and sometimes shift from their original locations. Captiva Island Inventory 19 Typically, an inventory is established at the same time as a garden and creates a baseline to determine future accessions and deaccessions. For instance, the first accession records at the Arnold Arboretum date to 1872, the year the institution was founded, although it took about a decade for the initial card-file system to be refined. In an account from 1881, Charles Sprague Sargent outlines the importance of the inventory but admits that accurate records are often abandoned because they are \"too expensive for practical working.\"6 He references the future value of recording each plant despite the challenge, suggesting that the effort must bear the test of time. At the Rauschenberg campus, our team believed that the strain of changing climates made the connection to time even more powerful. Establishing a curatorial tradition within an undocumented collection posed two important challenges to the inventory from the start: first, to establish what constituted a \"tree\" among a host of woody plants, and second, to assess a largely spontaneous collection. Both challenges forced us to make value judgments based on what to count, and thus what to omit, a puzzle that raised more questions than we could answer alone. The Inventory Process The Sanibel-Captiva Conservation Foundation (SCCF) was founded in 1974 by a group of Islanders committed to the preservation of the island ecosystem. At the time, SCCF successfully opposed development in Sanibel by incorporating as a city, enabling votes on dredge-and-fill policy, uprooted mangroves, seawall construction, and overscaled condominiums. 7 The same constituency hired the firm of Ian McHarg, the renowned landscape architect who wrote Design with Nature, an Initial site plans and surveys for the Rauschenberg campus emphasized the built infrastructure. Notably, the plants were unrepresented, even in the densely vegetated area known as the jungle. Captiva Island Inventory 21 influential ecological treatise.8 Captiva did not follow suit and has experienced the consequences of haphazard planning ever since. This is one of the main reasons that the Rauschenberg campus is so uniquely important: it is an anomaly in the landscape that might help inform Captiva's future. Our team, based in Massachusetts, worked with local horticulturist Jenny Evans from SCCF to initiate the process of developing a baseline for the plant inventory. Without a baseline, neither preservation nor conservation exists. It creates a reference for measuring and assessing disturbance. Although Jenny and her team had little experience establishing a plant inventory, she saw value in the challenge due to the extremities of change expressed by plant loss throughout the hurricane season. The baseline would help us chart the rapidity of change in both the loss of material in hurricane season and, hopefully, the regrowth of disturbance-adapted species. Collectively, we were motivated to tackle the questions raised about the process of gathering and digitizing the data because we saw the importance of creating publicly accessible plant knowledge. Our inventory would prioritize woody plants, but as we worked through our initial questions, we found that trying to define a \"tree\" at Captiva proved conceptually hazardous in itself.9 Many woody plants do not behave as trees with a single trunk, but clump or spread. To capture this distinction, we created two categories of data: rather than discriminating between trees and shrubs, we suggested points and areas. Points recorded the center of woody plants with single trunks. Areas recorded the total diameter of the woody plant\u2014the perimeter of all trunks and shoots. Each point was recorded in a discrete location using latitude and longitude, while areas were recorded by walking the perimeter of the plant and recording the path.10 The system of areas was especially useful for taking stock of the mangrove fringe on the bay side, yet flexible enough to allow us to indicate where specific points were noticeable as major trunks within the tangle. The points within the mangrove area are only one example of how the standards of defining a tree helped us standardize a method across a site full of exceptions. As trees were defined and included in the inventory, a workflow developed between the on-site project team and the data input team. First, the site was divided into 75-by-75-foot quadrants in order to work systematically across the landscape. The quadrants did not have to be delineated in physical space: they were charted by datasets of a handheld GPS device. The on-site team then recorded woody plants using the system of points and areas, and the data from each quadrant was shared with our team sitting at our studio in Massachusetts. This workflow enabled the field team to move from one quadrant to the next and continue to amass data.11 Our team uploaded their new field data to a global information system (GIS) and aligned this work with site surveys used in the original design documents.12 We checked the data, cleaned duplicates or errors, and assigned a unique catalog code in GIS, which was exported with labels and integrated into the site survey. The process raised questions about what type of data was most useful to contain on the map label and how the information could be read by those both familiar with and unfamiliar with plants. Therefore, we decided on two distinct categories: standard and custom. Standard data included common, Latin, and family names, along with trunk diameter (at breast height) in centimeters, height taken in meters, geospatial location (latitude, longitude), location on site (quadrant), and the year recorded. To include canopy cover in the standard category, Jenny came up with a novel expression\u2014a range from one to five\u2014that corresponded to how much of the sky could be seen when standing at the trunk. If 80 to 100 percent of the sky was obscured, she would give the canopy a five; 60 to 80 percent obscured would be a four, and so on. This might not seem relevant in the context of temperate trees, but in a tropical site that is largely overgrown by densely sprouting palms, the canopy can still lack density, which affects overall shade and comfort despite height and maturity. We also assigned a Florida Exotic Pest To develop the plant inventory at the Rauschenberg campus, a field team collected GPS points, measurements, and detailed observations for all woody plants growing on the twenty-acre property. The complete inventory can now be accessed on a handheld device. 22 Arnoldia 78\/4 \u2022 May 2021 Plant Council category to each plant. Finally, we created a unique identifying code for each woody plant in the inventory. The custom category necessitated the most creative collaboration as we imagined what future residents and stewards might wish to know about the plants of the present. The first section within the custom category includes descriptions of environmental influences (damaged or broken limbs, leaning habit, and so forth), notes about neighboring plants in relation to the spread (consider for instance Ficus aurea, the strangler fig, which envelops a host tree), and surveyor comments. The collaboration with SCCF was crucial to the comments section and includes remarks about character or significance that were personal, such as \"never seen it grow this way\" or \"covered in lianas,\" a crucial input to research in heavily urbanized landscapes that resist standards. The subsection also provides space for more nuanced assessments of the Florida Exotic Pest Plant Council criteria, with notes such as \"typically invasive, but not aggressive on this property\" that overcome the binaries of what typically counts and what doesn't count in a living collection. In the Context of Change Landscape design often implies stability and predictability. Yet, the dynamics of the landscape are changing, which invites practices to change in turn. This need is especially pronounced on the Florida coast. As we looked for models for our project, we consulted with curatorial staff at public gardens and found a range of concerns. At the Arnold Arboretum, for instance, staff pay especially close attention to evidence of infestations, as some of the most devastating losses to the living collection are brought on by foreign pathogens.13 While the rise of foreign pathogens is certainly not bound to the Northeast, Florida must first contend with the intensely localized effects of increased storm damage brought on by rising seas. A more apt comparison might be made to the inventory at Montgomery Botanical Center in Coral Gables, Florida, a historic collection specialized in the conservation of palms, cycads, and conifers from across the world. The garden is a coastal site vulnerable to episodes of increased storms and the very real effects of about one-third of an inch (nine millimeters) of rise in sea level per year.14 Thus, Montgomery is grappling with a concern common to all coastal living collections in a time of rapid climate change: How far into the future should we plan? While this is an enduring question in relation to living collections, it finds amplified resonance considering that Montgomery calculates an increased inundation of forty-three acres, or 36 percent of the entire garden.15 While this number is staggering, the plant inventory confirms that only 8 percent of the collection will be lost in this scenario. Although the figure does not include storm damage, salt intrusion, and other vulnerabilities, it does significantly change the answer to the question: planning can no longer occur in one-hundred-year increments. The status of any living collection is dependent on maintaining an inventory, which raises questions as to why plant inventories are not more commonly practiced beyond the world of public gardens. In the context of barrier islands, like Captiva, change is noticeable seasonally as hurricanes sweep across the surface of the land while fluctuating sea levels remake the coastline. But, of course, landscapes everywhere are increasingly in states of flux. The knowledge of how to create and maintain an inventory is critical to engendering a unique collaboration between plant and human life within our everyday landscapes. A plant inventory is a record of human and biotic adaptation, a neutral middle ground that accumulates experience and data. It helps visually connect the public to the effects of accelerated climate change, and in a practical sense, it inspires care and helps humans take notice of the plants in their environment. After the success of developing the plant inventory at the Rauschenberg campus, our team's ensuing idea is to adapt the same open-source technology into a handheld, userfriendly platform that could form the basis of a public inventory for landscapes anywhere, populating our blank site plans and challenging generic street views. We imagine citizen scientists learning to create a site history, as plants under their stewardship become a baseline for future generations. Plant inventories are cruCaptiva Island Inventory 23 cial to increasing an awareness of change, especially in the face of both chronic and episodic stresses of the twenty-first century. Perhaps we can shape an understanding of change by visualizing and valuing impermanence. Endnotes 1 A number of authors, myself included, write about the loss of plant knowledge in design. See, for instance: Raxworthy, J. and Harrisson, F. 2018. Overgrown. Cambridge: MIT Press. 2 Practice Landscape includes Emily Hicks and Joanna Lombard, and we were commissioned by the Robert Rauschenberg Foundation to work as part of a team in collaboration with WXY architects and eDD engineers. 3 Rauschenberg bought the Fish House from Jay Norwood \"Ding\" Darling, chief of the US Fish and Wildlife Service (formerly the Biological Survey). Ding Darling is best known for ushering in the Federal Duck Stamp Program to expand the federal purchase of wildlife habitat. See, for instance: Ding Darling Wildlife Society. n.d. Our namesake. https:\/\/ dingdarlingsociety.org\/articles\/our-namesake 4 The cultural history of the plantings is culled from various oral accounts and conversations, especially with Matt Hall, the site manager who worked closely with Rauschenberg on Captiva, until Rauschenberg's passing in 2008. 5 The Arnold Arboretum plant inventory claims that to meet objectives \"the Arboretum fields expert curatorial staff able to conduct inventories as well as troubleshoot an array of taxonomic, cartographic, and horticultural puzzles.\" See: Arnold Arboretum of Harvard University. 2011. Plant inventory operations manual (2nd ed.). http:\/\/arboretum.harvard.edu\/ wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/07\/plant_inventory_ operations_manual.pdf 6 Sargent, C. S. 1882. In Harvard University, Annual reports of the president and treasurer of Harvard College, 1881-82 (pp. 122-123). Cambridge, MA: University Press. 7 SCCF's mandate continues to advocate through education and outreach, supported by an intellectual generosity and a spirit of collaboration. For a short history of SCCF in the context of early development see: Davis, J. E. 2017. The Gulf: The making of an American sea (pp. 406-410). New York: Liveright Publishing Corporation. 8 McHarg, I. L. 1969. Design with nature. Garden City, NY: Published for the American Museum of Natural History [by] the Natural History Press. 9 We initially turned to a definition of trees provided by the Arnold Arboretum's Peter Del Tredici: \"A tree can be defined as a plant that, when undisturbed, develops a single, erect woody trunk. A shrub, on the other hand, is a woody plant that, when undisturbed, branches spontaneously at or below ground level to produce multiple stems. In general, a tree will develop secondary trunks in response to injury to its primary trunk or root system, to displacement of its primary stem out of the normal vertical orientation, or to a dramatic change in surrounding environmental conditions.\" Despite the usefulness of this definition, in practice, we found the distinction was difficult to apply at Captiva. Del Tredici, P. 2001. Sprouting in temperate trees: A morphological and ecological review. The Botanical View 67: 121-140. 10 Data was collected using a handheld Trimble, a GNSSbased data collector that is integrated with ArcMap GIS and is the standard in forestry surveys. This system allows for ease of data entry and storage that works well with our needs for both quantitative and qualitative data. Model: Trimble Geo 7X. 11 The field team received the initial GIS data for each quadrant as a CSV and shapefile. 12 This data alignment involves changing the coordinate system to a projected coordinate system. 13 Emerald ash borer (Agrilus planipennis) and hemlock wooly adelgid (Adelges tsugae) are of particular concern in eastern Massachusetts. Among numerous scientific studies on monitoring, see, for instance: Knight, K. S., Flash, B. P., Kappler, R. H., Throckmorton, J. A., Grafton, B., and Flower, C. E. 2014. Monitoring ash (Fraxinus spp.) decline and emerald ash borer (Agrilus planipennis) symptoms in infested areas. General Technical Report NRS-139. Newtown Square, PA: United States Department of Agriculture, Forest Service, Northern Research Station. 14 Wdowinski, S., Bray, R., Kirtman, B. P., and Wu, Z. 2016. Increasing flooding hazard in coastal communities due to rising sea level: Case study of Miami Beach, Florida. Ocean & Coastal Management, 126: 1-8. 15 According to a one-hundred-year projection: Griffith, M. P., Barber, G., Tucker Lima, J., Barros, M., Calonje, C., Noblick, L. R., Calonje, M., Magellan, T., Dosmann, M., Thibault, T., and Gerlowski, N. Plant collection \"half-life:\" Can botanic gardens weather the climate? Curator: The Museum Journal, 60(4): 395-410. Rosetta S. Elkin is an associate professor at McGill University, an associate of the Arnold Arboretum at Harvard University, and the founder and principal of Practice Landscape. Rosetta's work considers living environments with a particular focus on plant life and climate change. She teaches planting design, fieldwork, and seminars that advance a theory of plant life between ecology and horticulture."},{"has_event_date":0,"type":"arnoldia","title":"William Purdom: The Forgotten Arnold Plant Hunter","article_sequence":5,"start_page":24,"end_page":37,"url":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/\/action\/directLinkImage?assetId=25733","featured_photo":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/servlet\/display?file=b34509f9d4e0d25ebb6b.jpg","volume":78,"issue_number":4,"year":2021,"series":null,"season":null,"authors":"Gordon, Francois","article_content":"William Purdom spent three years collecting in northern China and Tibet on behalf of the Arnold Arboretum and the British nursery James Veitch & Sons. Here, Purdom passes through a gate in the Great Wall, in Shanxi Province, in the spring of 1910. PHOTO: \u00a9 BRITISH LIBRARY BOARD It was early March 1912, on the banks of the Yellow River, 450 miles south of Beijing. An Arnold Arboretum plant collector and his three-man escort had ridden more than five hundred miles east from Minxian, in Gansu Province, through a region devastated by the Xinhai Revolution. The revolution had toppled the last Qing emperor and replaced the centuries- old imperial system of government with a republic, which was struggling to establish its authority against a plethora of regional warlords. The roads were alive with bandits, and food and shelter hard to find, but the collector's journey to date had been uneventful. He and his escort were drawing near their destination, the railhead to Beijing in Honan (now Luoyang), the provincial capital of Henan Province. Suddenly, they were ambushed by a group of mounted men, who fired as they charged, killing two horses in the first moments of the attack. It's unlikely that the bandits knew what the travelers' saddlebags and packhorses' loads comprised, still less that they coveted the herbarium specimens and the seeds and tubers laboriously collected in Gansu and Tibet over the previous year. But a foreigner was sure to be carrying silver specie to pay his way on the road, and the surviving horses would fetch a good price. The botanist, however, had other ideas. He drew a lever-action rifle from the scabbard beside his saddle and, as he would later write, \"made a stand,\" shooting three of the attackers and several of their horses. His escort joined in, driving off the bandits, and the party galloped to the small city of Shenchow, from where they eventually continued their journey to Beijing, which passed without further incident.1 The plant collector was William Purdom, at the conclusion of a three-year expedition on behalf of the Arnold Arboretum and the British firm of James Veitch & Sons to northern and northwestern China and the Tibetan region of Amdo. In the course of his expedition, he sent to Boston 550 packages of seeds and well over one thousand herbarium specimens.2 Purdom, born in 1880, was a head gardener's son from the Lake District in northern England. He served an apprenticeship with his father before working for two distinguished London nurseries, then joining the Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew, as a student gardener. The Kew course of training for botanists and horticulturalists was internationally renowned and correspondingly demanding to join and to pursue. Purdom had done well and had proved a particularly skilled propagator, especially of woody plants. But Kew's director, Sir William Thiselton-Dyer, did not appreciate Purdom's activism as the secretary of the Kew Employees Union, and in 1905, Purdom was dismissed for \"agitation.\" Purdom promptly petitioned the Board of Agriculture, Kew's parent ministry, which agreed that he was perfectly entitled to join a trade union and ordered his immediate reinstatement. Thiselton-Dyer, unable to bear this humiliating public reversal, resigned. The new director, Colonel David Prain, then had to contend with the only strike there has ever been at Kew, efficiently organized by Purdom. All in all, it's perhaps not surprising that when, in 1908, Charles Sprague Sargent enquired whether Kew could recommend someone to undertake a three-year expedition to China, Prain enthusiastically recommended Purdom as the very man for the job!3 Sargent had come to Britain in August 1908 to engage a plant collector to travel to northwestern China to collect plants and seeds for the Arnold Arboretum. Ernest Wilson, whom Sargent had sent to China in 1907, had made it clear that he would not extend his two-year contract.4 In 1906, Sargent had also agreed William Purdom: The Forgotten Arnold Plant Hunter Francois Gordon GORDON, F. 2021. WILLIAM PURDOM: THE FORGOTTEN ARNOLD PLANT HUNTER. ARNOLDIA, 78(4): 24-37 \u222b with the United States Department of Agriculture that Wilson would work in partnership with Frank Meyer, the department's collector in China. Meyer, whose main interest was in plants of agricultural value, would also collect ornamentals in northern China, and Wilson would collect useful plants for the department in the southern zone. But Sargent was bitterly disappointed by how few ornamental specimens Meyer sent from Shanxi Province and was furious when these specimens were discovered to include several previously unknown species of larch (Larix), spruce (Picea), and pine (Pinus) from which Meyer, who had not recognized them as novelties, had not collected seed.5 Wilson, by contrast, was spectacularly successful, sending back thousands of herbarium specimens and large quantities of plant material, in the process enhancing the reputation of the Arboretum. Sargent, a man of strong opinions and personal self-confidence verging on arrogance, refused to accept Meyer's explanation that the north of China was \"an utterly barren region\"6 when it came to new ornamental woody plants and wanted to send a collector there to prove the contrary. Sargent also wanted this collector to harvest the botanical riches he was convinced were to be found in the high mountains of Shaanxi and Gansu Provinces in northwest- 26 Arnoldia 78\/4 \u2022 May 2021 Frank Meyer photographed larches (Larix gmelinii var. principis-rupprechtii) near Wutaishan, in Shanxi Province, in February 1908. Charles Sprague Sargent, suspecting these and other conifers in the region to be unique, wanted Purdom to revisit the site. ARNOLD ARBORETUM ARCHIVES cized (in Britain) record as a trade union activist\u2014 about which both Prain and Veitch appear to have maintained a discreet silence vis-\u00e0-vis Sargent\u2014meant that most potential employers saw him as a troublemaker, a label which would have made it very difficult for him to find employment in Britain. The first few weeks of 1909 passed in a blur, as Harry Veitch organized detailed briefings for Purdom on China. Purdom's instructors included Sir Robert Hart, recently retired after forty-eight years in China as inspector general of China's Imperial Maritime Customs Service, and Augustine Henry, the distinguished dendrologist who had spent nineteen years in China working for the Customs Service. The Kew-based photographer E. J. Wallis gave Purdom lessons in using a sophisticated glassplate camera.9 Purdom sailed on the Oceanic from Southampton to New York on February 3 and reached Boston four days later. Sargent immediately formed a favorable impression of Purdom,10 and he spent Purdom's second day in Boston writing an eight-page memorandum of guidance about where, when, and what to collect in China. Sargent told Purdom that, on arrival in China, he should seek out Ernest Wilson in either Shanghai or Yichang (in western Hubei Province) 11 before proceeding to Beijing. From there, he was to continue 120 miles north to Chengde (then often known as Jehol) and still farther north to the old imperial hunting ground at Weichang. In a characteristic display of wishful thinking, Sargent asserted that since Weichang \"has never been covered by a botanist, it is not impossible that you will find many interesting and possibly entirely new plants.\" Purdom was to leave Weichang in August so as to be in the Wutai mountain range, 180 miles southwest of Beijing in Shanxi Province, in mid-September, in time for the seed-drop of the conifers: obviously, Sargent especially desired seed from the new spruce, larch, and pine of which Meyer had sent herbarium specimens. Once the seeds had been collected, which Sargent thought \"ought not to take very long,\" he hoped that Purdom would return, via Beijing, to Weichang\u2014a round William Purdom 27 \u222b ern China. Sargent believed that, because the plants from that region endure harsh winters in their home range, they would be better able to stand the New England and north European winters than those from farther south. (The logic is seductive, and such plants will indeed withstand bitterly cold winters, but they are very vulnerable to late spring frosts, having evolved in a climate where spring is a brief prelude to a hot summer, a short transition from extreme cold to baking heat.) Sargent asked Isaac Bayley Balfour, the regius keeper of the Royal Botanic Garden, Edinburgh, for advice in identifying a collector, and Balfour recommended George Forrest,7 who had, in the spring of 1907, returned from a very successful three-year plant-hunting expedition in Yunnan Province and whom Balfour knew wanted to return to China.8 Sargent suggested to his old friend Harry Veitch, whose family firm, James Veitch & Son, dominated the British horticultural trade, that they jointly engage Forrest and share the harvest he would send back from China. Harry Veitch was agreeable, but although Forrest came to London in September to meet Sargent and Veitch, he refused their offer. Forrest was not impressed with the salary offered by Sargent and was reluctant to collect outside Yunnan, where he believed, quite correctly, that much more remained to be discovered. Nor would he agree to travel to China in early 1909 because he wanted to be at home for the birth of his first child in April. Sargent had to return to Boston in October, leaving Veitch to find a collector. After two months during which Veitch failed to propose a candidate, Sargent wrote to him in early December reminding him of their agreement to send a collector in early 1909. After consulting Prain and the director of the Kew Arboretum, William Bean, Veitch offered Purdom the post at a salary of two hundred pounds a year plus expenses of four hundred pounds a year. Purdom asked for time to think about it before agreeing on January 7, 1909. Truth to tell, Purdom had little alternative but to accept Sargent and Veitch's offer; his contract at Kew had expired, and he knew that his well-publiBaoding Wutaishan Beijing Chengde (Jehol) Dolon Nor Zhuizishan Mudanshan Yan'an Luoyang Jon\u00ea (Honan) Minxian Lanzhou Taibaishan Xi'an Lotani Gubeikou Shanghai SHAANXI SHANXI HENAN SHANDONG INNER MONGOLIA OUTER MONGOLIA SICHUAN HUBEI ANHUI JIANGSU ZHEJIANG GANSU ZHILI WEICHANG QILIAN MOUNTAINS QIN MOUNTAINS SHENYANG A M D O KOKO NOR 100 miles 200 kilometers 28 Arnoldia 78\/4 \u2022 May 2021 Purdom spent his fi rst collecting season, in 1909, north and west of Beijing. His second year centered on Shaanxi Province. In the third year, he collected in Gansu Province and the Tibetan region of Amdo. trip of around six hundred miles\u2014to gather seeds and herbarium specimens there. The year 1910 was to be spent in Shaanxi Province, where Purdom was to seek \"the wild tree peony\" (Paeonia suffruticosa) before exploring the mountain range near Xi'an, the ancient former capital. This region is around fi ve hundred miles southwest of Beijing. Finally, the third and last year, 1911, was to be spent in Gansu Province, in the high mountains on the border with Tibet, over one thousand miles from Beijing. All this was spelled out by Sargent with admirable clarity, and he was equally clear about the principal object of the expedition, which was \"to investigate botanically unexplored territory [and] to increase the knowledge of the woody and other plants of the [Chinese] Empire.\" In pursuit of this last goal, Sargent expected Purdom to dry six sets of herbarium specimens for all woody plants, including specimens of the same species that might occur in different regions so as to show the extent of any variation. He also wanted Purdom to photograph \"as many trees as possible,\" including their fl owers and bark, and \"if time permits [\u2026] views of villages and other striking and interesting objects, as the world knows little of the appearance of those parts of China you are about to visit.\" These goals were not quite the same as those articulated by Harry Veitch, who had told Purdom \"the object of your mission [is] to collect seeds and plants of trees and shrubs, also any plants likely to have a commercial value, such as lilies,\" but there was sufficient overlap that Purdom felt he could satisfy both his sponsors. ARNOLD ARBORETUM AND GIS COMMUNITY 1911 SEASON 1910 SEASON 1909 SEASON William Purdom 29 Purdom must also have welcomed Sargent's brief acknowledgment that it might be impracticable to complete the ambitious itinerary he had sketched out in three collecting seasons and that Purdom might need, in the light of local advice or experience, to change it. Sargent had his legal adviser draw up a contract, which he and Purdom signed. This stipulated that \"all seeds of herbaceous, alpines and bulbous plants and all bulbs and other roots except those of woody plants\" collected by Purdom would be the property of the firm of James Veitch & Sons and would be sent directly to them from China. Collections of woody plants would be divided equally between Veitch and the Arnold Arboretum. Photographs and herbarium specimens would belong to the Arboretum. The Arboretum would pay his salary and expenses in January and July, after which Veitch would reimburse one-half of the total sum involved. Purdom spent a fortnight in Boston, mostly being taught how to prepare herbarium specimens. This involves pressing specimens of plants in blotting paper (also known as drying paper), including, as appropriate, the leaves, stems, flowers, fruit, and seeds. It is a long and laborious process, not least because of the need to change the absorbent paper every couple of days until the plants are thoroughly dried out. These specimens are subsequently mounted on cardstock with a note of the name of the plant, if known, the date and site of collection, and any details recorded by the collector that may be lost as a result of pressing and drying, such as color or scent. After his training in Boston, Purdom traveled by train to Vancouver, from where he sailed for China on the Empress of Japan. He arrived in Shanghai on March 16, 1909. Ernest Wilson had repeatedly made it clear that he would hold Sargent to their two-year contract and was not interested in extending it. Nonetheless, when Sargent wrote to him that he and Harry Veitch had engaged Purdom and hoped that Wilson would brief him before returning to London, Wilson expressed disappointment at being \"passed over.\" But he promised that he would do anything he could to help \"your new man,\"12 and his briefing of Purdom in Shanghai seems to have been reasonably cordial. What is, however, clear from Purdom's full account of his briefing from Wilson13 is that Wilson did not suggest to Purdom that it would be to his advantage to engage any of the eight trained Chinese collectors who had supported Wilson over the last three years. Their contract with Wilson would end as soon as they had finished packing the harvest of the last season's collecting for shipment to Sargent. If Purdom had hired some or all of them, he would have benefitted from their experience and expertise in, for example, preparing herbarium specimens rather than having to train collectors himself, starting from scratch. The men themselves would surely have welcomed the continuation of their employment. Wilson's reticence is all the more noteworthy when one recalls that when Wilson started on his first collecting expedition to China in 1899, he was briefed by Augustine Henry (who was leaving the country) and immediately thereafter hired Henry's entire team, who had been trained over the previous decade.14 But Purdom lacked the experience to suggest he might do the same thing, and Wilson, despite his promise to Sargent that he would do all he could to help Purdom, did not propose it. One wonders whether Wilson kept silent because he anticipated that he might return to China within the three-year period for which Purdom was contracted to collect for Sargent and Veitch. In fact, in June 1910, Wilson did return and promptly reconstituted his team of helpers. Obviously, this would have been impossible if the men had been in the field with Purdom. A less charitable alternative explanation is that Wilson was not especially keen to provide Purdom with assistants who might help Purdom challenge Wilson's burgeoning reputation as the greatest of the Western plant hunters active in China.15 Certainly, in later years, Wilson quite deliberately burnished his reputation, including by rewriting some of the history of his first two expeditions.16 Immediately on his arrival in Beijing, Purdom applied himself to learning Mandarin Chinese, a language that he mastered remark- \u222b Clockwise from top: In the spring of 1909, Purdom traveled north of Beijing and crossed the Great Wall at the gateway town of Gubeikou. He continued northward by river and spent the summer in the imperial hunting grounds of Weichang. Although the region was predominately treeless, Purdom documented pines (Pinus tabuliformis) among the scattered forests. That fall, he returned to Beijing and headed west to Wutaishan, where he photographed a collection of Khingan fir (Abies nephrolepis) near his tent. The year 1910 was spent primarily in Shaanxi Province. He sent the Arnold Arboretum few photographs that year, but one showed the landscape of Mudanshan, where there was no sign of the wild tree peony. ALL PHOTOS ARNOLD ARBORETUM ARCHIVES Clockwise from top: In 1911, Purdom collected primarily in Gansu Province and Amdo, an adjacent region of Tibet, where he photographed a temple perched above the Tao River at Jon\u00ea. Purdom took a considerable number of portraits of families and individuals in the region. He also documented the dramatic mountains near Jon\u00ea, which he labeled as the Peling Mountains. Before returning to England, Purdom collected seedlings of the Chinese horsechestnut (Aesculus chinensis) at a temple in Beijing's Western Hills. ALL PHOTOS ARNOLD ARBORETUM ARCHIVES 32 Arnoldia 78\/4 \u2022 May 2021 ably quickly. Unusually for a Westerner in China at this time, Purdom consistently treated local administrators and farmers in the areas where he collected as his social equals, among whom he sought to make friends. Partly as a result, he was allowed into areas of China foreign travelers were actively discouraged from visiting, not least for their own safety. Purdom spent the 1909 collecting season in northern China and Mongolia, including in Wutaishan. Sargent had specifically tasked Purdom with collecting seeds from spruce and larches found there, which were not in cultivation in the West, but the wet summer of 1909 meant that the trees did not set seed. Although Purdom sent cuttings and seedlings, Sargent complained that they had been poorly packed and that, as a result, many of them had died on the six-week journey to Boston.17 He was only partly mollified by seeds that were germinating in the Arboretum's greenhouses. In fact, Purdom had dispatched thirty parcels of seeds and bulbs from more than three hundred unique collections to Boston and London that year. These included rhododendrons and primulas, a fine blue anemone, several peonies, and three species of clematis, one of which, the downy clematis (Clematis macropetala), has particularly graceful deep blue bell-shaped flowers. It first flowered in Veitch's Coombe Wood nursery in 1912 and remains very popular today. For Sargent, there were several poplars (Populus), elms (Ulmus), larch, and herbarium specimens of a new form of bird cherry (later named Prunus padus var. pubescens forma purdomii), which is a small tree with copious white racemes, bright red berries, and fine foliage. In April 1910, after overwintering in Beijing, Purdom traveled to western China. Sargent had asked him to investigate Moutan-shan (or Mudanshan, which translates to \"peony mountain\") near the ancient city of Xi'an, where he hoped Purdom would find the original wild peony. When Purdom arrived, however, he found that the plants had long ago been harvested for traditional medicines and the mountain was stripped bare. Purdom took several photos of the mountain to leave Sargent in no possible doubt that there were no peonies (and few other plants) there. Purdom had better luck near Yan'an, where he found a wild population of the tree peony. He ultimately collected over five hundred seeds of this dark red peony, which was raised in both Boston and Coombe Wood. (Sargent would later write of this as a \"first-rate achievement.\"18) On Taibaishan, in southern Shaanxi, he found a fine rhododendron with dark pink buds shading into white flowers, subsequently named Rhododendron purdomii. He also found another wild population of the tree peony, but with no seed. The next year, Purdom continued westward to Gansu Province and the Amdo region of Tibet. He found, in a monastery garden, a lovely winter-flowering viburnum (Viburnum farreri, then known as V. fragrans). He sent seeds to Veitch, who grew them on and subsequently sold his stock to Gerald Loder, the owner of Wakehurst Place in Sussex, where, in 1920, they flowered for the first time in Britain. Purdom also sent seed of an edible honeysuckle, Lonicera caerula, whose curious cylindrical fruit is today sold in the West as \"honeyberry.\" He ended the season in Minxian, in Gansu Province, where he had no choice but to wait for order to be restored following the anarchic violence that followed the Xinhai Revolution in October. Fortunately, Purdom had more or less completed the season's collecting, which included several fine primulas and asters, and in December, he was able to persuade the Minxian authorities to provide (for a fee) an armed escort to enable him to return, via Honan, to Beijing. When Purdom told the political staff at the British Legation about the attempted ambush near Shenchow, they were horrified to hear that he had killed three of the attackers, whom they strongly suspected (or they may have had confidential information confirming it as a fact) had been off-duty government soldiers.19 They urged Purdom not to repeat the story to anyone else lest he (and, by association, Britain) should be seen as taking up arms against the Chinese government. This advice suited Purdom, a very private man who throughout his life avoided personal publicity. Furthermore, Purdom was angling for a job with the Chinese Republican William Purdom 33 Purdom and two assistants make their camp on or near Mudanshan, in May 1910. His herbarium presses are arranged in the foreground, with his lever-action rifle resting against the central press. government and may well have believed that to publicize the shooting wouldn't help his prospects. He did give Sargent and Harry Veitch very brief accounts of the incident,20 but it was not reported in either the Chinese or English press, nor did he ever allude to it in later life. Both sponsors of the expedition were disappointed by Purdom's harvest. Harry Veitch recognized that \"if the plants were not there, then he [Purdom] could not send them,\" but Sargent was reluctant to accept that while his decision to send Purdom to the botanical terra incognita of northwestern China had been a perfectly reasonable throw of the dice, the gamble had failed. That would have meant recognizing that Sargent had got it wrong, and he chose instead to blame Purdom for not trying hard enough.21 Sargent also rebuffed Purdom's request to return home from Beijing via San Francisco and New York in order to enable him to visit Boston to explain why the results of the expedition had not matched Sargent's over-ambitious hopes.22 And the statistics that Sargent reported in his 1910-11 Annual Report to the President of Harvard University tended (at least) to leave readers with the impression that Purdom's harvest over the 1910 season had been less than one-quarter of Wilson's, whereas, in fact, he had sent the Arboretum and Veitch germplasm from almost \u222b \u00a9 BRITISH LIBRARY BOARD 34 Arnoldia 78\/4 \u2022 May 2021 exactly half the number of different plants collected by Wilson in the same season.23 Sargent's harsh judgment of Purdom's competence as a collector may well have been influenced by his comparing Purdom's collections with those of Ernest Wilson, sent from Sichuan Province. Such a comparison would prima facie not be to Purdom's advantage: the two men were not competing on a level playing field. The climate of Sichuan is subtropical, shading into tropical, and the annual monsoon delivers plentiful rainfall. Gansu, Shanxi, and Shaanxi Provinces, where Sargent had dispatched Purdom, share a temperate climate, with bitterly cold winters and little rainfall. Unsurprisingly, the flora of Gansu and its immediate neighbors is much sparser than the vegetation of Sichuan where Wilson principally collected. The Hengduan Mountains in western Sichuan illustrate the extreme biodiversity of the region where Wilson was collecting. The mountains are far enough south that during the last ice age they escaped being scraped bare by glaciers. The substantial variation in altitude created a range of habitats, from river valleys to alpine meadows and peaks, and a huge range of plants flourished there while those further north were wiped out by the ice. In consequence, the Hengduan massif is a biodiversity hotspot, a veritable plantsman's paradise in which it is estimated there are over 8,500 species of plants, 15 percent of them endemic (found only in that confined geographical area). They include over one in four of the world's species of rhododendrons (224 species), primulas (113 species), and mountain ash (Sorbus, 36 species)\u2014the list goes on and on.24 In contrast, plant biodiversity where Purdom was collecting was much lower. In the Qilian Mountains of Gansu, researchers have tabulated around 1,044 species of plants, and in southeastern Gansu, the number is around 2,458 species.25 Neither Wilson nor Purdom ever claimed to have done more than explore part of the provinces in which they hunted for plants, but the bottom line is that Wilson was collecting in a region where there was approximately three and a half to eight times the number of plant species than in the area to which Purdom had been sent by Sargent and Veitch. This made it almost inevitable that Wilson would send back to Boston specimens and seeds of more species than Purdom. In 1910 and early 1911, the only season for which it is possible to make a direct comparison, Purdom sent back to Harry Veitch germplasm associated with 374 unique collections numbers, while Wilson sent back 744 collections, 271 of them collected by his assistants after he had broken his leg.26 Sargent's negativity towards Purdom may also have been influenced by his feeling a measure of responsibility towards Wilson in respect of the avalanche that had nearly caused him to lose a leg and that left him with a severe limp.27 Wilson hadn't really wanted to go on the expedition, but Sargent had effectively forced him to, and it seems quite possible that he subconsciously vented a feeling of guilt about what had befallen Wilson on Purdom. Furthermore, the extent to which Wilson's work in China captured the imagination of the United States media and public meant that Wilson found a ready market for the articles and books that Sargent encouraged him to write about his expeditions. Wilson stressed his links with the Arboretum in the publications, and his star status, in turn, added luster to the fundraising efforts in which Sargent was constantly engaged to support the Arboretum and its activities. In short, it suited both men very well for Wilson to be front and center of the public stage, and there is nothing to suggest that either of them was concerned that the accomplishments of other collectors, including Meyer and Purdom, were overshadowed as a result. The final blow to any hopes Purdom entertained that this expedition might allow him to forge a reputation among the horticultural cognoscenti that would help him to secure a good job in Britain or the United States fell on his return to England. Harry Veitch had decided to close the firm, which had dominated the English nursery trade for decades, and sell the stock at auction, causing Purdom's collections to be dispersed and brought to market without his name being associated with them (Viburnum farreri, mentioned above, is a particularly egregious example). Purdom (left) returned to China in 1914 and spent two years collecting with the British botanist Reginald Farrer. Purdom used a clockwork self-timer to photograph himself with Farrer (right) and Zhang Bing Hua, the viceroy of Koko Nor (present-day Qinghai Province). This is the only known photograph of Purdom and Farrer together. \u00a9 BRITISH LIBRARY BOARD 36 Arnoldia 78\/4 \u2022 May 2021 All things considered, if we factor in Purdom's fundamental modesty and aversion to publicity, it's easy to see why he never captured the public imagination in the way that, say, Wilson or Forrest did. In 1912, Purdom began corresponding with officials in Beijing about a possible post in a yet-to-be-formed Chinese Forest Service, which would enable him to pursue an objective to which he was personally and strongly committed, namely the reforestation of China after decades of extensive and largely uncontrolled logging. There were long bureaucratic delays in setting up the service, and in 1913, when the alpine plant expert and plant hunter Reginald Farrer invited Purdom to join him on an expedition to northwestern China and Amdo, he accepted.28 He and Farrer botanized successfully in 1914 and 1915, collecting inter alios some fine poppies, alpines, primulas, and an elegant butterflybush (Buddleia alternifolia). Although Farrer would go on to write two of the best travel books of the era about the expedition, 29 the devastating effect on European gardening and horticulture of the First World War and the complete collapse in demand for new plants brought an abrupt end to their plant hunting at the close of 1915. In the spring of 1916, the Chinese government at last formally created a Chinese Forest Service, and Purdom was appointed as a senior forestry adviser to the Chinese government. Purdom must have been deeply happy at last to have achieved a senior management position in which he could make his mark. He began working with Han Ngen (Han An), the secretary of the Ministry of Agriculture, to train Chinese foresters, develop tree nurseries, and plant trees where they would do the most good. By 1919, after three years of backbreaking effort, over one thousand tree nurseries had been established in China, containing one hundred million young trees. In the same, year twenty to thirty million trees were planted on over one hundred thousand acres of otherwise unproductive land.30 Many of these were timber trees new to China, mostly from North America, which Purdom knew would do well in different Chinese regions and climatic zones. He organized the importation of many millions of seeds and cuttings, making him the only Western plant hunter to have imported into China vastly more plant material than he ever collected there. It appears that eventually Purdom and Sargent were reconciled: in 1920 and early 1921, Purdom is known to have sent plant material to the Arnold Arboretum. Frustratingly, however, there is no surviving correspondence from this time in the Arnold Arboretum files, and Sargent's personal papers are lost. Purdom died suddenly in Beijing in November 1921 at the age of forty-one, due to an infection contracted following a minor surgery. He was buried in the English cemetery in Beijing, but fifty-four of his Chinese friends and colleagues clubbed together to commission a large and elegant memorial stele in the Forest Service plantation at Xinyang, which they renamed the Purdom Forest Park. Remarkably, the stele and the park were both left alone during the violently anti-foreigner Cultural Revolution of the 1960s and 1970s and they are both carefully preserved to this day. The epitaph is too long to quote in full, but a hundred years later the sorrow felt by Purdom's friends who subscribed to the stele is still very clear. Perhaps what would have most pleased Purdom is their description of him as \"a true and loyal friend of the Chinese people who won the admiration and respect of his colleagues, worked tirelessly for the reforestation of China and who, had he lived, would certainly have trained the next generation of Chinese foresters.\" Will Purdom was a fine and honorable man, who rose from a position of very limited personal agency and overcame formidable obstacles to leave the world a better place for his passage. Not only does he deserve to be remembered in his own right, but his life has a good deal to teach us about our place in this interconnected world. His concerns about protecting local ecosystems are a reminder that these ideas were current well over a hundred years ago. Finally, we should, in justice, remember him when we plant his introductions in our gardens: among them, \"his\" viburnum, butterflybush, or bird cherry. \u222b William Purdom 37 Endnotes 1 Purdom letter to Harry Veitch, 23 March 1912 (copied by Veitch to Charles S. Sargent, 10 April 1912), Arnold Arboretum Horticultural Library, Harvard University (AA archive). 2 Anon. 1921. William Purdom. Journal of the Arnold Arboretum, 3(1): 55-56. 3 David Prain letter to Harry Veitch, 31 December 1908, Royal Botanic Garden, Kew, archives. 4 Ernest H. Wilson letters to Sargent, 21 November 1908 and 9 March 1909; also Sargent letter to Veitch, 26 April 1909, AA archive. 5 Sargent letter to Wilson, 8 July 1908, AA archive. Sargent also expressed his disappointment to David Fairchild, Meyer's superior at the Department of Agriculture. 6 Frank Meyer letter to Wilson, 7 May 1907, AA archive. 7 Bayley Balfour letter to George Forrest, 26 August 1908, Royal Botanic Garden Edinburgh archive. 8 George Forrest (1873-1932) made a total of seven expeditions to China, in the course of which he collected over thirty thousand different plants and herbarium specimens, nearly all of them from Yunnan Province in southwestern China. 9 Purdom was an apt pupil, and the Arnold Arboretum archive has a large collection of his photographs, which are an important resource for our understanding of remote areas of China in the first decades of the last century. 10 Sargent letter to Veitch, 16 February 1909; and to Prain, 25 February 1909, AA archive. 11 Sargent letter to Purdom, 8 February 1909, AA archive. 12 Wilson letter to Sargent, 9 March 1909, AA archive. 13 Purdom letter to Sargent, 26 March 1909, AA archive. 14 For a full account and a photo of the team, see: O'Brian, S. A. 2011. In the footsteps of Augustine Henry (p. 68 et seq.). Garden Art Press. 15 Wilson's biographer, Roy W. Briggs, suggests that Wilson was concerned that his replacement by Purdom might be seen as an adverse reflection on the quality of his own work in China. 16 See, for instance: Holway, T. History or romance? Garden History, 46(1): 3-27. 17 Sargent letter to Purdom, 3 May 1910, AA archive. 18 Sargent letter to Veitch, 13 June 1912, AA Archive. 19 On March 10, 1912, the political department of the legation sent a telegram about the ambush to the Foreign Office in London, but unfortunately it has been \"weeded\" from the file in the Public Record Office. The legation also asked the representative of the London Times in Beijing, Ernest Morrison, not to report the incident, and Morrison complied. 20 In addition to the letter that Purdom sent to Harry Veitch cited above, see: Thomas, W. B. 1913, July 10. Creator of 2,000 new plants. Daily Mail, p. 3. 21 Frank N. Meyer letter to David Fairchild, 15 October 1912, USDA compilation of Fairchild correspondence held at the University of California, Davis, Vol. 3, pp. 1600-1601. 22 Meyer letter to Fairchild, 21 December 1912, USDA compilation, Vol. 3, pp. 1619-1621. 23 For my full accounting of this, see: Gordon, F. 2021 Will Purdom: Agitator, plant-hunter, forester (pp. 111- 116). Royal Botanical Garden Edinburgh. 24 See: Kelley, S. 2001. Plant hunting of the rooftop of the world. Arnoldia, 61(2): 2-13. These figures are likely to have changed slightly in the intervening twenty years as new species have been identified and others have been reclassified. By way of comparison, the British Isles presently (2021) have 1,443 species from 308 genera, only 1.2 percent of them endemic. 25 Wang, J, Che, K., and Yan, W. 1996. Analysis of the biodiversity in Qilian Mountains. Journal of Gansu Forestry Science and Technology; also, Lu, W-Z. and Ren, J-W. 2005. Plant biodiversity and its conservation in Maijishan Scenic Regions of Gansu. Journal of Northwestern Forestry University, 20(4): 44-47. 26 Plant collecting is emphatically not a \"numbers game,\" and it would be foolish to use these figures to attempt to compare the relative efficiency of the two men. But Purdom clearly did a good job in a poor collecting area. Again, for my accounting of these numbers in the biography, see pp. 111-116. 27 For a full account of the story surrounding Wilson's accident, see: Dosmann, M. 2020. A lily from the valley, Arnoldia 77(3): 14-25. 28 Purdom letter to Reginald J. Farrer, 9 September 1913, Royal Botanic Garden Edinburgh archive. 29 See Farrer's books On the Eaves of the World (1917) and The Rainbow Bridge (1921). Both books are dedicated to \"Bill\", i.e. Will Purdom. 30 Reisner, J. H. 1921. Progress of forestry in China 1919- 1920. Journal of Forestry, 19(4): 396. The map in this article was inspired by the map on page 72 of Will Purdom: Agitator, Plant-Hunter, Forester and was created using Esri, Airbus DS, USGS, NGA, NASA, CGIAR, N Robinson, NCEAS, NLS, OS, NMA, Geodatastyrelsen, Rijkswaterstaat, Garmin, GSA, Geoland, FEMA, Intermap and the GIS user community. Purdom Plants at the Arnold Arboretum As of this writing, visitors at the Arnold Arboretum can find twenty-five trees and shrubs that arrived directly from Purdom (as seed) or Veitch (as plants) from Purdom's first expedition to China. Another twenty-six plants represent other Purdom lineages, including Forsythia that originated from Purdom's collections with Reginald Farrer. To map them in the landscape, visit https:\/\/ arboretum.harvard.edu\/explorer\/. Use the advanced search and input \"Purdom\" in the collector field. Francois Gordon retired from the British Foreign Office in 2009 after thirty years mostly spent in Africa. Today, he lives and gardens with his wife Elaine in Kent. His first book, Will Purdom: Agitator, Plant-Hunter, Forester, was published by the Royal Botanical Garden Edinburgh in 2021. It can be purchased on Amazon."},{"has_event_date":0,"type":"arnoldia","title":"George Ware and the Thornhill Elm: A Vision of Trees for the Future","article_sequence":6,"start_page":38,"end_page":47,"url":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/\/action\/directLinkImage?assetId=25734","featured_photo":"https:\/\/assetbank.arboretum.harvard.edu\/assetbank-aahu\/servlet\/display?file=b34509f9d4e0d25e816e.jpg","volume":78,"issue_number":4,"year":2021,"series":null,"season":null,"authors":"Shearer, Kim","article_content":"In 1987, a plant pathologist in Montana ended an incomplete experiment by cutting down fourteen young American elm trees (Ulmus americana). At the time, Dutch elm disease (Ophiostoma ulmi, DED) was taking hold in parts of Montana. The only management practices then available in Montana were tree removal or pesticide sprays to stop the movement of the vectors, elm bark beetles. The pathologist, Gary Strobel, had been hoping to develop an unconventional method of disease management\u2014vaccinate the tree with a genetically engineered bacterium (Pseudomonas syringae) to fight the fungal disease. In lab trials, Strobel and his colleague Donald Myers had demonstrated that Pseudomonas syringae produced natural antibiotics that suppressed the spread of DED through vascular tissue. Still, Strobel needed permission from the Environmental Protection Agency to proceed with a field experiment that involved a genetically engineered organism. The bureaucratic machinations promised to delay the field experiments for another year, so Strobel moved forward with his experiments and injected fourteen trees before receiving formal approval. This moment captured national headlines focusing attention on the debate over genetically engineered organisms and drawing unwelcome attention to Montana State University, where Strobel was a researcher. Rather than put his colleagues at risk of losing federal funding due to his decisions, Strobel volunteered to destroy his field experiment. As an unanticipated result, however, the news also generated a newfound interest in tree breeding work occurring in a Chicago suburb. At the Morton Arboretum in Lisle, Illinois, George Ware had been busy developing DEDresistant elms the conventional way, through targeted breeding efforts using disease-resistant germplasm. In a 1987 New York Times article titled \"Fighting Elm Disease the Natural Way,\" Ware is quoted as saying, \"Dr. Strobel was trying to help one kind of elm quickly. We're looking more toward diversity over the long run.\" This quote highlights the nature of Ware's Elm Improvement Program and the efforts that he went through in developing the next DEDresistant elms. George Ware arrived at the Morton Arboretum in 1968, a mere two years after Marion Trufant Hall was hired as director and charged to lead the arboretum in an initiative to expand our research capacity. Ware was enlisted as the research director and the in-house ecologist and dendrologist. In 1972, four years into his tenure, Ware began noticing a peculiar tree in the arboretum collections: a stately elm growing outside the former study of Joy Morton, the arboretum's namesake and founder. At the time, much of the landscape in and around Chicago had been devastated by Dutch elm disease\u2014as was the case across the United States. The graceful American elm had been widely planted in the Chicago area, along streets and in parks. The prevalence of this species, which was also a ubiquitous forest tree, would ultimately be its undoing, enabling the rapid spread of both the vector and the disease by air and by root-to-root transmission. The first detection of Dutch elm disease in the United States was recorded in 1929 by Curtis May, a plant pathologist for the United States Department of Agriculture (USDA). May received samples collected in Ohio by plant pathologist Paul Tilford. The trees in Ohio were dying and a cause for concern. Later, in 1933, a USDA inspection would discover the source of the introduced disease: shipments of imported burl logs harboring the European elm bark bee- Facing page: In 1972, George Ware observed an elm at the Morton Arboretum that displayed exceptional form and resistance to Dutch elm disease. The tree would become Ware's first commercial tree introduction: the Accolade elm (Ulmus davidiana 'Morton' Accolade\u2122). PHOTO: STERLING MORTON LIBRARY SHEARER, K. 2021. GEORGE WARE AND THE THORNHILL ELM: A VISION OF TREES FOR THE FUTURE. ARNOLDIA, 78(4): 38-47 \u222b George Ware and the Thornhill Elm: A Vision of Trees for the Future Kim Shearer tle (Scolytus scolytus). The larvae of elm bark beetles, including our native species (Hylurgopinus rufipes), feed on the vascular tissue of infected trees, picking up spores with their bodies. When they mature and emerge from the tree, they can move to uninfected trees, introducing fungal spores. Newspapers across the country began raising the alarm about the rapid loss of trees as the disease continued to spread in the East and Midwest. By 1970, the Chicago region was reported to have lost more than fifty thousand trees and was projected to lose another fifty thousand within two years. It was amidst this devastation, in 1972, that Ware noticed the tree growing outside of Joy Morton's study window at the Thornhill Estate. It was an elm (Morton accession 2352-24*1) with gracefully arching branches, healthy and green foliage, and no symptoms of the disease. The original elm, fondly referred to by Morton Arboretum staff as the Thornhill Elm, was accessioned into the collections in 1924, shortly after Joy Morton founded the arboretum on his estate in 1922. With guidance from Charles Sprague Sargent, the director of the Arnold Arboretum, Morton established a 735- acre arboretum that included an herbarium, library, and nurseries, along with staff to manage it all by the time of his death. The most integral component of the arboretum\u2014the living collections\u2014included many accessions of plants initially sourced from the Arnold. In the initial establishment of the Morton collections, Sargent provided access to seed, clonal propagation material, and plants. One such packet of seed was labeled Ulmus crassifolia (the cedar elm), and records indicated that the seed had been wild-collected in Brownwood, Texas, by botanist Ernest Jesse Palmer. It was accessioned into the arboretum collections, and seeds were germinated and grown in the nursery. Eventually, a sapling was planted outside the bay window of Morton's study. As the years passed, the tree witnessed Morton's family and guests enjoying summer afternoons by the pool. The sloping vista beneath the elm was crowned by hawthorns for which the estate was named. There were staff picnics for Morton Salt Tree breeding is a slow, steady process, requiring years to grow and evaluate each generation of hybrids. Over the decades, Ware's Elm Improvement Program would produce some of the most popular disease-resistant elms for the North American landscape. STERLING MORTON LIBRARY \u222b George Ware 41 Company and the Morton Arboretum in the coming decades. The tree overlooks the Morton family cemetery and bore witness to family funerals, but it also provided shade to guests at weddings and garden soirees. Eventually, when the crumbling mansion was demolished long after Morton had died, the tree stood guard over Morton's study, which was preserved as part of a new facility for educating the public about plants and the rest of the natural world. In 1972, Ware looked at this tree and recognized that it was, in fact, not Ulmus crassifolia. The leaves were too large, the bark not quite right, and the form much too refined. As a dendrologist who had been a faculty member at Northwestern State College in Louisiana, Ware was familiar with U. crassifolia, which is native to that region. In fact, one of the first deposits Ware made into the arboretum collections in 1968 was a packet of cedar elm seed (Morton accession 385-68) that he had collected from the wild in Seguin, Texas. After further investigation (and even a visit to Arnold), Ware confirmed that the Thornhill Elm was U. davidiana, a species native to eastern Asia. Noting the native origin of the species and the lack of symptoms in the tree, Ware saw the possibility that the Dutch elm disease pathogen had Asiatic origins itself. Perhaps the presence of Ophiostoma ulmi in the natural habitat of U. davidiana had led to coevolution of the species such that the David elm had adapted a natural biochemical defense mechanism to combat the disease. In this tree, Ware saw great potential. The Thornhill Elm inspired the development of the first breeding program at the Morton Arboretum, the Elm Improvement Program. As a trained ecologist and dendrologist, Ware understood the necessity for genetic diversity within a population. He was soon on the search for more parent material to include in his germplasm collection. By 1980, Ware had clones of the Thornhill Elm propagated and under evaluation. That same year, he published two articles in the Journal of Arboriculture focusing on the qualities necessary for trees to survive in human-built landscapes and the attributes of Asian elm species that made them ideal candidates for such an environment. These publications were an effort to raise awareness within a community of tree experts about the possibilities that were held within the genetic resources of Asian elms. While American elms were being felled across the eastern United States, Ware was proposing a new solution to a decades-old problem: Let's plant Asian elms, he suggested, given that these species are adapted to both the constructed environment and the Ware recognized the value of Asian elm species as urban trees in North America. This list outlines species Ware recommended for evaluation and breeding in the Journal of Arboriculture and Landscape Plant News. Distribution and descriptions have been adapted from his papers. Species Geographic distribution Ware Description Selections available in US nursery trade? Ulmus davidiana (syn. include U. japonica, U. wilsoniana, U. propinqua) China, Japan, Korea, Mongolia, Siberia Variation in habit; tolerant of hostile conditions Yes; many introductions made in the past couple of decades U. glaucescens Gansu Province (China), northern China Small tree; small leaves, fine texture; yellow to orange fall color; tolerant of urban conditions based on its distribution No U. laciniata Humid areas of northern China, Korea, Siberia, and Japan Small to medium tree; potential drought hardiness; lobed leaves; Zelkova-like branching No U. macrocarpa China, Mongolia, Korea, and Siberia Strong wood; shrub to mediumsized tree; adapted to humid and arid regions; tolerant of \"hostile\" conditions No U. parvifolia China, Korea, Japan Tolerant of drought, pollution, poor soils; attractive lace bark; glossy leaves Yes; many introductions made in the past couple of decades devastating disease. Clones of the Thornhill Elm are now widely available in the commercial nursery trade under the name Ulmus davidiana 'Morton' Accolade\u2122. When developing any plant breeding program, a breeder must first start with objectives and further refine them by identifying specific desirable traits. Ware's primary objective was to develop elm trees with Dutch elm disease resistance. Second to that, he aimed to develop trees that were not preferred by the elm bark beetles or elm flea weevils (Orchestes alni). Beyond pest and disease resistance, Ware would focus on species adapted to environments of the extremes: temperature, drought, flood, high winds, blizzard, and \"hostile\" soils. He defined hostile soils as those with high pH, poor aeration, and minimal organic matter. He noted that these are all common conditions of the Midwest and Great Plains, and coincidentally, these are the same conditions faced by trees in developed landscapes regardless of the region. Ware went on to list and describe Asian elm species that should be considered for breeding programs. Meanwhile, Ware began the process of hybridizing elms that were available within the Morton collections. He collected branches covered in rounded floral buds and brought them into his lab. He placed the cut stems in vessels containing water and positioned them upon white sheets of paper spaced out along lab benches. As the forced stems began to flower, yellow piles of pollen would accumulate on the paper, signaling the pollen was ready to be collected and stored. Ware then used a ladder to take this pollen into the canopy of a female parent tree, where he secured a bag over a flowering stem. Making an opening in the bag, he dispersed pollen inside and mimicked the movement of the wind to ensure the pollen made contact with the receptive stigma. Once the bag was securely shut, he climbed down from his ladder and waited. This process led to the development of several new hybrid elms, including Ulmus 'Morton Glossy' Triumph\u2122. This selection is one of the most popular of Ware's elm introductions due to its low maintenance requirements in both commercial nursery production and municipal tree management. While a breeder can develop the best possible plant selection, the plants would not get very far out of the breeding program without help from the nursery industry. Ware was acutely aware of this. While his initial collaborations were with arborists, foresters, and botanists, he would go on to develop strong working relationships with the nursery industry, specifically Keith Warren, the former manager of new plant development for J. Frank Schmidt & Son, based in Boring, Oregon. The two first discussed the possibility of evaluating Ware's elm selections after a Metropolitan Tree Improvement Alliance conference, hosted at Thornhill in June of 1990. This meeting would lead to a collaboration between the Morton and J. Frank Schmidt that continues today, enabling hybrid elm selections to be propagated on greater scales and evaluated in field research. The first grafting of Ware's elm hybrids at J. Frank Schmidt occurred in 1994\u2014just twenty-two years after Ware recognized the tree's potential and seventy years after being received as seed labeled Ulmus crassifolia. The Oregon Department of Agriculture helped the collaborators set up a screened isolation and quarantine area at the commercial nursery, ensuring that DED would not be introduced into the Oregon landscape due to the nursery trade. By 1995, additional propagation material was distributed for in vitro propagation evaluation by Microplant Nurseries, a tissue culture lab based in Gervais, Oregon, managed by Gayle Suttle. At that time, there were not yet any cultivars of U. davidiana available through the commercial industry. Ware also recognized that for elm breeding efforts to be effective, additional genetic material needed to be collected from the wild. When he began his research, he found that few elms of wild provenance were available in the collections of North American public gardens, potentially creating a genetic bottleneck for any North American elm breeding program. The total number of elm species is somewhere within the range of twenty to forty, depending on taxonomic classification, and the center for Facing page: To develop new elm hybrids, including Ulmus 'Morton Glossy' Triumph\u2122, Ware carefully crossed select trees using pollination bags, secured high within the tree canopy. PHOTO: JIM NACHEL, STERLING MORTON LIBRARY 42 Arnoldia 78\/4 \u2022 May 2021 \u222b this diversity is unmistakably in eastern Asia. The Flora of China indicates that more than half of all elm species are native to the region. Ware and his colleagues ultimately visited China five times and the Soviet Union three times, developing relationships with forestry researchers willing to collect seeds in the wild and ship them to Ware. Today, the Morton's elm collection contains 329 accessioned individuals representing thirty-three species and thirty-four cultivars, a dramatic increase from 1968, when Ware arrived. At that time, the elm collection included fifty-one trees, which represented nine species and ten cultivars. Of the newer individuals accessioned into the Morton collections, eighty-one came directly as plants from Ware's breeding and research program. Ware also actively distributed seed and plants throughout the United States. He coordinated a seedling distribution program through which he distributed one thousand seedlings to Midwestern nurseries, aiming to popularize the Asian elm species. Municipal foresters and park managers regularly arrived at the Morton Arboretum's service gate searching for elm seedlings he had promised. As the current manager of the program that Ware initiated, I still receive notes from recipients of such gifts who recount fond memories of Ware and his generosity. Today, the seedling trees that he distributed can be found from Oregon to New York and Illinois to Louisiana. Several of Ware's elms were even planted in the late 1980s on the course of the Winged Foot Golf Club, the prestigious host of multiple US Opens in Mamaroneck, New York. This planting was a direct result of a 1987 New York Times interview of Ware following the Strobel controversy. By 1990, Ware had several elm selections in the pipeline and a greatly expanded collection of germplasm. He then began the process of developing a new breeding population. Working with large, wind-pollinated, late-winterflowering trees presents unique challenges to a breeder. The flowers are insignificant and often located more than six feet above the ground. (I can attest to the complications of these factors as a breeder working with elms today.) To sim- This table outlines five of Ware's most well-known elm cultivars. Note that Ulmus japonica and U. wilsoniana are taxonomic varieties that make up the U. davidiana species complex, but they are listed here as the original species for the sake of simplicity. Information found in this table is adapted from the Chicagoland Grows' Plant Release Bulletin (no. 44). 44 Arnoldia 78\/4 \u2022 May 2021 Cultivar and trade name Parentage\/ origin Traits USDA Hardiness Zones Dimensions (feet) Ulmus 'Morton' Accolade\u2122 Chance seedling U. japonica x U. wilsoniana Vase-shaped habit and vigorous grower; foliage fine-textured, dark green, and glossy with yellow fall color; DED and elm yellows resistance; resistant to elm leaf beetle 5 - 8 20 year 30' H, 15' W Mature 50 - 60' H 30 - 40' W Ulmus 'Morton Plainsman' Vanguard\u2122 Chance seedling U. japonica x U. pumila Relatively upright branching and rounded habit in youth; requires corrective pruning to avoid included bark; dark green foliage with yellow fall color; DED and elm yellows resistant; susceptible to elm leaf beetle, Japanese beetle, and leafminer 5 - 7 Mature 45 - 50' H 40 - 50' W Ulmus 'Morton Glossy' Triumph\u2122 Controlled cross U. Accolade\u2122 x U. Vanguard\u2122 Grower favorite due to ease of training; lustrous dark green foliage with yellow fall color; upright oval form that ages to vase shape; strong branching; excellent DED resistance; moderate pest resistance 4 - 9 Mature 50 - 60' H 40 - 50' W Ulmus 'Morton Stalwart' Commendation\u2122 Controlled cross U. Accolade\u2122 x (U. pumila x U. carpinifolia) Symmetrical arching branches, upright oval habit; large, dark green leaves with yellow fall color; rapid growth and broad adaptability; excellent DED resistance; moderate susceptibility to elm leaf beetle, Japanese beetle, and gypsy moth (4)5 - 9 Mature 50 - 60' H 40 - 50' W Ulmus 'Morton Red Tip' Danada Charm\u2122 Chance seedling U. japonica Rounded habit in youth maturing to large and elegant vase-shape; fast grower; glossy green foliage with redpigmented new growth; yellow fall color; excellent resistance to DED and elm yellows; moderate susceptibility to Japanese beetle and elm leaf beetle (4)5 - 9 Mature 60 - 70' H 50 - 60' W plify the hybridization process, Ware developed an isolation block of sorts in a local cemetery. He knew the cemetery would not be paved and that the trees would be left alone until they declined from old age. While Ware retired in 1995, he continued to develop his vision of trees for the future as a research associate of Morton Arboretum until 2009. The selection criteria that Ware developed for this population include tolerance to DED and elm yellows (a phytoplasma disease, Candidatus Phytoplasma ulmi, which causes leaves to suddenly wilt in late summer), pest resistance, cold hardiness, vigor, and red fall color. Red foliage is not commonly seen in elms. Typically, the fall color is a muddy yellow. Ware, however, had noticed an intriguing trait in a group of Asian elm seedlings: red pigmentation in emerging leaves. He understood that if the seedlings could produce red pigmentation (anthocyanins) in leaves during the spring, they should be able to use the same biochemical pathway to produce anthocyanins in the fall. This unexpected discovery led to red fall color becoming a new breeding objective. I was hired as the tree and shrub breeder for the Morton Arboretum in 2016. When I arrived here, I was certainly not an elm expert. I had spent my graduate school years working primarily with shrubs and herbaceous perennials. It took some time to unearth the details of the Elm Improvement Program, but today, I can say that we are continuing to make progress with Ware's legacy project. The program is now part of the Daniel P. Haerther New Plant Development Program, named in honor of a generous benefactor of the arboretum who was one of many that Ware inspired to appreciate the development of trees for the urban landscape. Ware consulted about elms on Haerther's estate, and in the process, the two would develop a relationship centered on a love of trees. Currently, we have sixty-one seedling selections from the breeding population that Ware left behind for the next generation. These were all selected for fall colors ranging from oranges to reds and purples. The breeding population includes the Ulmus davidiana complex, a variable group that was historically treated as three STERLING MORTON LIBRARY Ware (center) embarked on plant-collecting expeditions to acquire new elm germplasm from populations in China and the Soviet Union. His collaborators on this 1990 expedition to Shaanxi Province, China, included (from left) Ross Clark, Peter van der Linden, Kris Bachtell, and William Hess. \u222b separate species (U. japonica, U. wilsoniana, and U. propinqua). The population also includes three other Asian species (U. macrocarpa, U. parvifolia, U. pumila), an Asian hybrid (U. 'Sapporo Autumn Gold'), and the European field elm (U. minor). Our primary focus has been on the U. davidiana complex. We have selected a tree that will serve as the seed parent. It has an attractive form and relatively petite stature, along with somewhat glossy and predation-free foliage in the summer. We also continue to expand the program, particularly with work on the lacebark elm (Ulmus parvifolia). In 1996, Ware published two short articles in Landscape Plant News regarding this Asian species. He had participated in a USDAsponsored research exchange trip to China led by Eugene Smalley from the University of Wisconsin-Madison. Ware and four American colleagues joined Smalley in the fi eld to collect seed and determine the natural range of U. parvifolia. They were also very much focused on building relationships with Chinese researchers. Ware considered this elm species to be an especially promising selection for built environments of the South due to its broad adaptability to heat, fl ooding and drought, hostile soils, and both humid and arid conditions. However, he also noted that it would not perform well in northern states due to limited cold hardiness. Today, lacebark elms have demonstrated some hardiness with proper site selection. At the Morton Arboretum, seventeen individuals of this species (along with three cultivars and three unnamed hybrids) have survived multiple polar vortexes. I have also witnessed the lacebark elm growing and thriving from North Carolina to New York City and Las Vegas to New Orleans. This widespread adaptability, however, is accompanied by legitimate concerns about weediness. Even though the lacebark elm has not been widely planted in the Midwest, it is already listed as a weed of concern in Wisconsin. Colleagues at public gardens in other regions have expressed similar apprehensions about the species. This concern has led us to develop a new elm improvement project at the Morton Arboretum focused on developing selections with reduced fertility. Breeders have long used methods of mutation breeding to develop seedless plants. The most commonly known examples include the seedless watermelon and banana. These were developed through a traditional breeding method referred to as interploidy hybridization. Ploidy is the number of complete sets of chromosomes found in the cells of an organism. Humans typically carry two sets of chromosomes (diploid)\u2014 STERLING MORTON LIBRARY A young Accolade elm represents the success of Ware's vision for tree breeding and introduction. This commercial introduction is now one of more than twenty-six cultivars of Asian elms available in North America. one set inherited from our mother, the other from our father. A plant, however, can carry many more sets of chromosomes within its cells. Having three sets of chromosomes (triploid) often causes issues in reproduction due to the odd number of chromosomes that cannot segregate evenly during meiosis. To develop a triploid, a breeder must hybridize a diploid and a tetraploid (four sets of chromosomes). Tetraploids can be developed through the application of chemical mutagens known as mitotic spindle fiber inhibitors. (One such chemical is colchicine, a toxic compound found in the autumn crocus, Colchicum autumnale.) We currently have several tetraploid lacebark elms, but now we must wait for them to mature. Once these trees have reached maturity, we will hybridize them with diploids in our collections that are reasonably cold hardy. Meanwhile, from the Ulmus crassifolia seed that Ware deposited in the Morton Arboretum collections in 1968, we have selected a tree with a remarkably symmetrical and pyramidal form that has survived severe winters and flooding events unscathed. We are building numbers of rooted cuttings to grow in evaluation blocks, inoculate with DED, and distribute to partners for evaluation around the country. Additionally, both this species and the lacebark elm are fallflowering species. Considering they are windpollinated and not self-compatible, we have begun collecting open-pollinated seed from our cedar elm selection and an adjacent lacebark elm, and we plan to evaluate the resulting seedlings. According to a paper published by USDA researcher Frank Santamour in 1973, not only are the two species compatible, but the lacebark elm confers increased DED resistance to its hybrid progeny. As Ware noted in his 1987 New York Times interview, the Morton Arboretum's effort to develop new trees for the American landscape has been focused on traditional breeding efforts. These slow and steady methods have required several decades, spanning multiple careers. Yet, the value in Ware's approach to breeding and outreach is evident in today's nursery catalogs and landscape. Once there were monocultures of American elm planted across the country in the built landscapes of cities and suburbs, but today the monocultures have been replaced with DED-resistant Asian elms. This diversity includes more than thirteen cultivars of elms from the Ulmus davidiana complex, in addition to at least thirteen cultivars of U. parvifolia. Many more selections of various species are still in the pipeline from academic and commercial breeding programs around the country. Through tenacity and vision, George Ware managed to inspire the nursery industry to adopt a new crop and introduce an unfamiliar Asian elm species to the North American landscape. The work has resulted in further diversification of our tree palette. It all began with the original Thornhill Elm, distributed to the Morton Arboretum by the Arnold Arboretum almost a century ago. Now, this very selection graces the landscape of the city of Boston, having come full circle in its journey from seed to cultivated tree. References Chicagoland Grows. 2017. The Morton Arboretum Elms. Plant Release Bulletin (no. 44). http:\/\/ www.chicagolandgrows.org\/downloads\/ MortonArboretumElms.pdf King, S. S. 1971, September 7. Dutch elm disease spreads westward. New York Times, 45. Malcolm, A. H. 1987, November 1. Fighting elm disease the natural way. New York Times, 9. Myers, D. F. and G. A. Strobel. 1983. Pseudomonas syringae as a microbial antagonist of Ceratocystis ulmi in the apoplast of American elm. Transactions of the British Mycological Society, 80(3): 389-394. https:\/\/doi.org\/10.1016\/ S0007-1536(83)80034-5 Santamour, F. S., Jr. 1973. Resistance to Dutch elm disease in Chinese elm hybrids. Plant Disease Report 57(12): 997-999. Schneider, K. 1987, September 4. Tearful scientist halts gene test. New York Times, A1, A11. Ware, G. H. 1980a. Little-known Asian elms: Urban tree possibilities. Journal of Arboriculture, 6: 197-199. Ware, G. H. 1980b. In search of new kinds of elms. Journal of Arboriculture, 6: 233-237. Ware, G. H. 1996a. Notes on elms observed on a trip to China. Landscape Plant News, 7(10): 4-6. Ware, G. H. 1996b. New elms for urban landscapes. Landscape Plant News, 7(10): 6-8. Kim Shearer is the tree and shrub