Another Savannah essay (II)

Ever since I was in my doctoral program in early Christianity at Brown University in the late 1970s, I have been very comfortable relating to Jewish people. At that time, the Brown Religious Studies program had two "ancient history-type" doctoral programs--in Early Christianity and Judaism in Late Antiquity. The doctoral students hung around together, commiserated on each other's fortunes, passed rumors about the professors and, generally, supported each other along the way. I learned to appreciate Jewish humor and admire Jewish drive. So today, when I was in the Jewish Reform Synagogue in Savannah, GA (Mickve Israel), I was completely at home talking to the docent and the ladies in the Synagogue. Indeed, the docent, who appeared to be in his mid-60s, had a son who is a doctor in Eugene, OR, just 60 miles from me. I may drop in on him some time.

I asked whether any Christians send their children to the "Hebrew Day" school, and was intrigued to learn that the top student at that school is the son of Episcopalians. Rather than being reluctant to admit this fact, the docent seemed to be delighted that a Christian was learning Hebrew better than the Jews. As one Jewish psychologist once said to me, "We Jews are 'hard-wired' to appreciate and embrace intelligence.'"

Forsyth Park

But I really had seen and learned enough about the rather ancient Jewish community in Savannah, and so I pressed on to examine more of the squares and, then, to work myself down to Forsyth Park. Forsyth is significant because it stands at the southernmost boundary of the squares but is itself a park originally shaped to be exactly the size of an entire ward--that is, about ten times the size of one of the 24 squares. Thus, this park adds a nice exclamation point to downtown, especially with its huge fountain in the midst.

The development of this park in the late 1870s-1880s was influenced by the movement, beginning in the 1850s in Paris, to create broad, tree-lined, grassy spaces in the burgeoning metropolitan areas of Europe (and then America). The most famous American designer of parks, Frederick Law Olmstead (1822-1903), began his illustrious park-designing career on Central Park in NYC in 1858-59. In those days the emphasis was on transverse lines, with fountains or obelisks in the middle of open squares, supplemented by trees, sculpted gardens and curving walking paths. This urban park movement arose from a philosophy which argued that beautiful green common space should be accessible to all.

What intrigued and delighted me more than even the fountain at Forsyth Park was the fact that several dozen of the trees in Forsyth were labeled and were trees going far beyond the Live Oak or Crape Myrtle. In fact, I want to spend some time sharing some of them with you so that your interest might be piqued. I knew I was in for some treats (i.e., trees that I wasn't very famliar with), when the first tree I met was a Sugarberry, Celtis laevigata. This series of pictures shows both the leaves and berries, in summer and fall. It is helpful to know that this is in the elm family--Ulmaceae, even though the leaves don't have the telltale elm feature--a sort of "missing" section where it connects to the branch. The three most popular genera in the Ulmaceae family are the Celtis (various hackberries/sugarberries); Ulmus (the elms); and Zelkova (the zelkovas).

Well, while we are on the Ulmaceae, I thought I would mention that there were two Ulmus parviflora in the park, one a 'Bergundy' and one an 'Allee.' These than are known as Lacebark Chinese Elms. Two dozen pictures of portions of this trees are available here. One of the arresting features of a parviflora is its amazing mottled or peeling bark, with at least two shades of orange or deep tan complementing the original light bark color.

I think I could go on forever on the trees of Forsyth Park, but I want to close with such a rare tree that the Oregon State Univ. Horticulturalist with whom I consult, Pat Breen, says that he has never seen it in an arboretum, though he is now convinced that tree # 163 in the Corvallis, OR tree walk (a tree on the Lower Campus of OSU) is a Pond Cypress, Taxodium ascendens. The bald cyprus, Taxodium distichum is not that rare; indeed, it is common to see it dripping with Spanish moss and plunged into a Southeastern bog or pond. But the ascendens, which is also near a distichum at Forsythe, has more "appressed" leaves, and the leaves are quite a bit shorter than those of distichum. Pat has updated the OSU web page to show the difference. Here is the contrast most baldly (pun intended).

Finishing at a GA State Park

Well, I decided to get out of town a bit this afternoon, and I ended up touring "Wormsloe," or "Wormslow," the several hundred acre former plantation of original European settler Noble Jones (d. 1775). He arrived in 1733 and by 1739 had begun to construct a "tabby house" on this site, on the Isle of Hope about 10 miles East of Savannah. A "tabby" house has nothing to do with kittens; it is a word which describes the combination of sand, water, lime and oyster shells made to construct 8' high fortification walls around his five-room house. Bricks weren't available or were too expensive to make.

When I looked down the entry road to the museum/interpretive trails, I saw approximately 350 moss-dripping Live Oaks arching over the roadway, and I decided, "what do I have to lose?" Well, the high school guy who took my money told me that they had identification markers by some trees/bushes and, since they also have an interpretive trail, I thought I was in heaven. So, I quickly went down the interpretive trail to the "living history" site. No markers. At all. Well, I circled back to the museum, taking another trail past the ruins of the "tabby house." Then, I saw some identification signs. But they disappointed. What do I mean? Well, they had one for a Sabal Palmetto, which happens to be the state tree of SC, and one which you see so many times in Charleston that you could draw one in your sleep. Then, they had another identification sign. Which tree did they tell you about? Drum roll. A Southern Magnolia. These are almost as prevalent in the South as Douglas-fir are in Oregon or Republicans are in Idaho. Telling me at a state park what a Southern Magnolia is is akin to a dictionary showing a picture of a canoe when it defines one.

So, I went into the museum to speak with the friendly female staffer. She wanted to make sure that I was having a great day, but I was not sure I was.

So, I said to her, "Why is it that there are no identified trees or shrubs on what is called the 'interpretive trail?'" She looked nonplussed for a second, but then responded, "It is called the interpretive trail because it leads to the interpretive center." I thought that was an unlikely response and then I showed her the map that we were standing IN the interpretive center and that the interpretive path led away from us. She said, "Oh, well, the map is wrong." I said to her, "So, the interpretive path leads to the intepretive center, which is wrongly marked on the map. Is that true?" She said, "Yes." Then I said, "Well, why isn't there anything at the end of the interpretive path? It is completely abandoned." She said, "Oh, they cut the budget, but sometimes they have living history demonstrations for the kids."

Well, as you see, I was getting nowhere fast, so I went into the museum, noted several mistakes and inconsistencies or gaps in the telling of the early story of the Plantation, but I didn't have the heart to bring them to her attention. Then, after I finished looking around, she kindly brought me a photocopied sheet that told about some programs next May at the park. I thanked her and went away.

Sometimes, I think I become too complacent with things "clicking" when I examine historical and natural sites. This was a good experience to show me that not everyone is on the same learning page that I am. I chuckle, however, as I recount this event. It shows the lengths to which people can go not to admit their ignorance. I have seen this many times before, in students--and in myself. I hope I am learning better by now...

2919