A Tree Falls in Evanston

On Mon., June 2, by order of the City of Evanston, a massive white oak at 2728 Harrison St., older than any house on the street, and for that matter older than every single street or building in Evanston, here since before any European settler, was cut down. The ancient tree, standing approximately 100 feet tall, was so huge that it could not be felled in one day despite a full crew working on it all Monday. The white oak, the state tree of Illinois, is a slow-growing deciduous hardwood that, most sources say, can reach to three feet in diameter. I measured this specimen as 4' in diameter several feet above its base, and 13' in circumference.

Both by size, and by the number of rings I was able to count, it was at least 275 years old, possibly 300. I.e., it was already an old tree when the Declaration of Independence was signed.

White oak is an extremely hard wood prized for furniture, flooring, structural beams, and wine casks. Absent massive soil disruptions, they rarely fall. The owners did not cut this tree down voluntarily, but were ordered to — an expensive undertaking, costing thousands of dollars — by the City, under threat of repeated $750 fines, making any appeal difficult. Why is unclear. A City source said that the Forestry Department does not roam the neighborhoods looking for "dangerous trees" on private property, and that some neighbor must have complained. However neither neighbor on either side of the owners (including those who might have been in the tree's path had it toppled) had made any such complaint, and were upset about the loss of such a landmark.

This tree had been hit hard by lightning a long time ago, perhaps a century or more, and had survived, though with a fissure. A limb fell in another storm some years ago, requiring some repair work to the owners' roof. However, 50% or more of the trunk was solid and intact even at the injured spot, and the damage was so long ago that new bark was actually growing inside the hollow -- the appeared to be in the process of filling itself in. It withstood last summer's tornado-like winds without incident. A tree expert who stopped to watch the process said that the tree could have been crowned and made more symmetrical, and less susceptible to any instability. The standing trunk of this oak, below the fissure, was at least 20 feet of solid, intact wood, and more than 3' in diameter from that point to the ground. That's a lot of board feet, and old growth white oak should have a high value. Yet for some reason it was sawed down in small sections, making any lumber use impossible. I was told it will likely become firewood. Seems like an ignoble end for a tree that was here a century before John Evans stepped foot in the vicinity.

A tree this size, by some estimates, can account for up to 8% of the value of a home. This oak sequestered a ton or more of carbon every year by removing the greenhouse gas CO2 from the atmosphere, and prevented thousands of gallons of stormwater runoff. Shading houses in the summer and providing some windbreak in the winter, it saved the owners hundreds of dollars in cooling and heating costs annually. Aside from its value to humans, it provided shelter and food for animals; it's hard to calculate the numbers of the generations of squirrels, raccoons, robins and hawks that have perched on its branches.

This tree likely started out as a sapling in prairie dotted with wetlands and groves, and helped transform the land into forest. It remained and stood standing while this forested prairie was cleared and became farm. It then watched as the farm was subdivided into lots and houses were built, starting with Victorian farmhouses. It remained above the fray as horses and buggies stabled in the alley behind Harrison Street gave way to cars, and as most houses on the block added on. Children born and raised in north Evanston, who played under its shade, grew up, had children of their own, grew old, passed on, and this tree continued to tower above the neighborhood. Undoubtedly it saw thousands of lightning storms over its life, many violent, and more than one tornado. The rings revealed a decade of very slow growth, followed by some healthy catch-up. Yet all this it survived – storm, drought, winter freeze, summer heat, winds, insects, and man himself. Nothing could bring it down. Until yesterday.