This Old Tree with Doug Still
Saving Seeds: Bartram’s Franklin Tree - Transcript Season 2, Episode 7 October 7, 2024 Doug Still: [00:01] You're listening to This Old Tree, the show about heritage trees and the human stories behind them. I'm Doug Still. [ambient sounds] I've always had a botanist fantasy. As a listener of this show, maybe you've had it too. I picture myself crawling along a remote mountain slope or stepping through the brush in a rainforest in order to encounter a tree or plant no one has ever seen before. I'm wearing a broad brimmed hat and spectacles, carrying a moleskine notebook and specimen bag. Mosquitoes, humidity and hardships don't touch me in this world. Worries are far away and left behind. Immersed in the wilderness, plants communicate a strange language I understand, the arrangement of leaves, the shape of seeds, the number and color of flower parts. New species are there waiting to be found and named and appreciated. What fun it is then, to learn about an uncommon tree at Bartram's Garden in western Philadelphia with a real-life botanist story. [harpsichord music] The tree is Franklinia alatamaha, known as the Franklinia or Franklin Tree. Admittedly, it's not the original tree planted at this historic 18th century property, but it's a descendant. In fact, all Franklinia found in gardens around the world are offspring of that one tree. It was found in the colony of Georgia in 1765 by John Bartram and his son, William, and William later went back to collect a specimen. Soon after, the species went extinct in the wild. They were Quaker farmers from Pennsylvania. So, how did they find themselves on a botanical quest within the wilds of the south, a new frontier at the time? The story touches on many things: interest in new world plants by amateur gardeners; the quest for social status among European aristocracy; lifelong correspondence and friendships; colonialism; and a sincere interest in the expansion of scientific knowledge spurred on by the enlightenment. Benjamin Franklin and Carl Linnaeus make appearances. A marvel for the natural world was in the air, and it was infectious. To find the Franklinia story, I interviewed Tom Reber, the energetic director of Landscape and Facilities at Bartram's Garden. I also lean heavily on the research of the late Joel Fry, a past curator at Bartram's. Lastly, I share some of the trials and tribulations of John Bartram directly from his letters to friends and associates. Join me to hear about Bartram's Franklin tree. I'm Doug Still, and this is This Old Tree. [This Old Tree theme] All roads to understanding the Franklin Tree led to Bartram's Garden. I met Tom Reber there on a warm, sunny day in May. It's located in western Philadelphia in what was previously the town of Kingsessing, and the area still goes by that name. Bartram's is a sanctuary of green here. The neighborhood is struggling and is starving for trees as low as 5% canopy cover, according to Tom. Probably, the nicest guy you could meet, he had an infectious enthusiasm for the beautiful colonial garden and grounds that he is in charge of. So, Tom, thanks so much for inviting me to the garden today. We're standing next to the famous Franklinia tree. We'll talk about it more in a minute, but first, could you describe where we are in the garden? Tom Reber: [03:56] Absolutely. And thank you for coming today, Doug. Right now, we're standing in front of the John Bartram house, what we call the common flower garden. This is the upper terrace gardens, and this is where the Bartrams would have been growing herbs and other shorter season vegetable crops for their kitchen, as well as a little bit of plant study, which is why we have some trees here in this section of the garden today. Doug Still: [04:26] Got it. The house is gorgeous. So, this is the front of the house? Tom Reber: [04:29] This is the front of the house. Today, we think of the front of the house in, historically, what is actually the rear, because we all come in off of the modern-day Lindbergh Boulevard with cars and on public transit. But in John Bartram's day, the river, the Schuylkill River, was the highway, and so the front of the house actually faces the river here. Doug Still: [04:51] A symmetrical herb garden gives way to a short lawn and then paths into a woodland that is basically an arboretum. Immense tulip trees, oak, hickory, sweet gum and numerous other trees create a canopy that leads down to the Schuylkill River. When was the house built? Tom Reber: [05:08] The house was started when John purchased the farm in 1728. And by 1731, the original house is completed. Doug Still: [05:17] He built it? Tom Reber: [05:17] He built the house. There was a wooden structure here on this land when he bought the farm. That intervening three years, 1728 to 1731, he quarried Wissahickon schist locally and built a smaller structure than what we see today that he continued to add on throughout the rest of his life. Doug Still: [05:39] It's a pretty impressive house for a colonial house. Tom Reber: [05:41] It's a very impressive house for a colonial house. Doug Still: [05:44] A few trees frame the flower garden in the upper terrace. One is an impressive ancient yellowwood tree that endured significant damage during a recent storm, but has received restorative pruning and other care by the landscape staff. On the opposite corner is what we came to talk about, the Franklin Tree. So, let's talk about this tree. Could you describe what it looks like? Is it a showstopper type of plant, or something else? Tom Reber: [06:12] So, the tree that we're standing in front of today is the tree that, if people know a plant relative to the Bartram’s, this is the plant. This is Franklinia alatamaha or the Franklin Tree named for Benjamin Franklin by his good friend, John Bartram. But Franklinia is an interesting tree. I do consider it a showstopper, but it can be subtle. It's in the tea family, so it's related to camellias. The new buds and leaves can be harvested like Camellia sinensis to make a type of tea with it. I've never had that tea. Doug Still: [06:51] Camellias are not native to North America, correct? Tom Reber: [06:53] And Camellias are not native, but this is native to North America, which is part of its unusualness. The other thing is that this is-- for most people, you might walk right by this through the growing season. Doug Still: [07:08] Now, I would describe it as about 20 ft high and a shrub-like mound. Tom Reber: [07:14] It is. That's where there's a little bit of friendly disagreement, whether it's a large shrub or a small flower. Doug Still: [07:20] Or, tree. [chuckles] Tom Reber: [07:22] We talk about it as a small flowering tree here. But they will get between 20 and 30 ft tall. Similarly, they're a fairly symmetrical canopy, so they'll be similarly 20 to 30 ft in diameter for the actual canopy drip edge. This tree is the oldest specimen we have here, but it's not the oldest in the region or the largest in the region. Doug Still: [07:47] Are they long lived? Tom Reber: [07:49] They are finicky. Sometimes yes, a lot of times, no. This is part of the reason that this tree doesn't exist in the wild anymore today. Doug Still: [08:01] This tree is extinct- Tom Reber: [08:02] This tree is actually- Doug Still: [08:03] - in the wild. Tom Reber: [08:04] -extinct in the wild. And it's very beautiful. Doug Still: [08:08] It reminds me of a plant that's in New England. I'm not sure if you have it here. Called sweet pepperbush. Tom Reber: [08:16] Yes. We do have-- [crosstalk] Doug Still: [08:17] Alnifolia. Tom Reber: [08:18] Clethra alnifolia. Doug Still: [08:20] It has a similar - these upright, delicate twigs with the leaves on the ends of it. Tom Reber: [08:28] Right. And the leaves, while this branches alternately, the leaves are so compressed at the ends of the branches that they almost appear to be whorled. Doug Still: [08:36] Right. Tom Reber: [08:37] And then, the flower buds are held right underneath the leaves. Doug Still: [08:42] I see. Tom Reber: [08:43] Today, they're about a half inch in diameter. They need to grow for another two months before they'll bloom. So, this is a midsummer bloomer here. Doug Still: [08:52] Mm-hmm. Does it bloom all at one time, or are they a flower here, a flower there for a continual show? Tom Reber: [08:59] It has a little bit of both, but I would say it's more the latter, a little bit here and there. It has an initial bloom in July, typically. It puts out a subtle display, but is fairly uniform throughout the canopy. Once those flowers are bloomed out and the petals drop off, it will sporadically bloom through the rest of the season, even into fall color. So, sometimes this has a range of fall color between purple and really vibrant neon red. And you'll get the white of the flower bloom with those colors. Doug Still: [09:35] That sounds beautiful. What's its native habitat? Where does it like to grow? Tom Reber: [09:39] So, it likes similar conditions to so many North American ericaceous plants - rhododendrons, mountain laurels. But it likes moist, well drained, acid rich humus. It hates compaction. It doesn't like hot soil. It doesn't like really frigid soil. Doug Still: [10:00] So, it's not really a good urban tree, I’d say. Tom Reber: [10:02] It's not a great urban tree. It's a tree that many gardeners consider to be their holy grail tree, because it's so difficult to grow. Doug Still: [10:12] Tricky but beautiful, uncommon and unique. The flowers alone are enough to make you ooh and ahh. Five large white petals surround a dollop of bright orange stamens, like the yolk in the middle of an egg fried sunny side up. This particular tree is impressive, but its importance stems from what it represents. It's a living memory of that first Franklin tree that grew here, the savior of its species. The story of its discovery by John and William Bartram was researched in depth by a beloved curator at Bartram's Garden, Joel Fry. His article, “Franklinia alatamaha, a history of that 'very curious shrub’” is seminal to our understanding. I've been doing reading, and there was a curator here who was a John and William Bartram scholar, Joel Fry. He seemed like an amazing scholar, and plantsman and intellectual. Unfortunately, he passed away recently, yes? Tom Reber: [11:15] Yes. Doug Still: [11:16] When did he die? Tom Reber: [11:17] Joel passed away last March of 2023. Joel was our curator, and he was a world-renowned scholar of the Bartram’s. He was an archaeologist by trade and training, actually, and started here at Bartram's as a student in his archaeology program. I like to joke that Joel found a good place and just stayed. But Joel was here for a little over 30 years. And studied Bartram history, he studied the history of this specific land. He worked with historians, horticulturists, researchers, artists region wide and worldwide to spread the joy of horticulture, to spread the legacy of the Bartram’s and their interest in the natural world. Doug Still: [12:10] And he wrote quite a bit about this particular tree- Tom Reber: [12:12] He did. Doug Still: [00:12:13] -which I've been reading. Tom Reber: [12:14] He wrote a number of pieces. But he wrote a white paper in the 1990s about Franklinia. That's what’s considered the reference about the tree. Doug Still: [12:24] So, in many ways, the story of discovering the Franklinia tree was his to tell, right? Tom Reber: [12:31] It was. Doug Still: [12:32] No one told it better than Joel. Tom Reber: [00:12:33] No one told it better than Joel. Doug Still: [12:35] I'm sorry, I didn't have a chance to meet him. Tom Reber: [12:37] He was a wonderful man. We were those of us who knew him and worked with him incredibly lucky to know him. Doug Still: [12:43] We've got Joel's shoulders to stand on and also, biographers Edmund and Dorothy Smith Berkeley, who wrote the Life and Travels of John Bartram: From Lake Ontario to the River St.John. To me, John's transition from farmer to botanist is what makes this story fun. He had an innate obsession with the natural world and how it works, and he questioned everything. Could you tell us who John Bartram was? Tom Reber: [13:09] Sure. Absolutely. So, John Bartram was North American by birth, English by descent and came from a Quaker family. The Quakers are, what we call, the Religious Society of Friends. Founded in the 17th century in England as a reaction against the Anglican Church. John was born into the faith, and was a Quaker by practice through the entirety of his life. He wasn't a Quaker by membership for the entirety of his life. He was a member of Darby Meeting, that's not too far from here, for a good portion of his life into early to mid-adulthood. And then, as he was dealing with his own beliefs about spirituality and religion, disagreed with Quakers and actually chiseled his beliefs into the stone of his house here. Doug Still: [14:01] I see that above the- Tom Reber: [14:03] Yes. Doug Still: [14:03] -first floor window. What does it say? Tom Reber: [14:05] The inscription in 1770 that reads, “It is God alone, Almighty Lord, the Holy One By Me Adored, John Bartram.” This is John stating to the world that he believes in the divinity of God, but he believes that Jesus is a human and not necessarily the Son of God. And the Quakers did not like that. Doug Still: [14:24] I imagine not. Tom Reber: [14:25] No. So, they kicked him out. Doug Still: [14:26] And he was a farmer. Tom Reber: [14:27] And he was a farmer. So, we think of John today as a botanist. He was by training and by his own education. But he was never formally trained in horticulture or botany. He was a farmer by training. He grew up a farmer and bought this land to be a farm originally. Doug Still: [14:46] John married his wife, Mary, in 1723, and they had two sons. Unfortunately, Mary passed away in 1727, possibly in childbirth. One of their sons died at a young age as well. John was married again in 1729 to a woman named Ann Mendenhall, and they eventually had nine children together, all of them working the farm. So, one thing that he's not, that I've learned through my reading, is that he's not a British nobleman. Tom Reber: [15:13] That is correct. He's not a British nobleman. I wouldn't say that he's maybe peasantry, but he's in the middle class that's starting to grow in this time worldwide. Doug Still: [15:24] Right. Tom Reber: [15:26] Because Quakers are a small, very tightly knit religious sect, still at this point, the grapevine is very short. So, John, being interested in the natural world, starts to study nature, study plants, go out and bring plants back to his farm from the wild. And as he does this, he realizes that he doesn't know a lot. He starts researching, he starts reading things, he starts talking to people. Doug Still: [15:55] A successful farm needed supplies and helpful contacts. So, John often ventured into nearby Philadelphia for necessities. There, he befriended a merchant and fellow Quaker named Joseph Brentnall, originally from Derbyshire, England. Brentnall had taken up making leaf impressions with printer's ink on absorbent paper. John invited him out to the farm in 1733 to help him collect leaves for his hobby, and began enthusiastically bringing Brentnall varied new specimens on his trips into town. According to the Berkeley’s, these prints were delicate and beautiful. They were soon passed around to Brentnall’s friends back in England who greatly admired them and appreciated the images of foreign species they were seeing for the first time. One of these colleagues was a regular correspondent of Brentnall’s named Peter Collinson, a London merchant, and amateur gardener and plant collector. To him, what he was seeing looked like pure gold. Suddenly Collins' eyes focused on the colonial farmer, John Bartram. It's time for a short break. But when we return, we'll find out how Collinson opened the doors for John and changed his life forever. You're listening to the story of Bartram's Franklin tree. I'm Doug Still, and this is This Old Tree. [theme music] [harpsichord music] What did the Brits care about what was in the forests of Pennsylvania? It's hard to imagine now. But among a certain set at the time, North American plants were part of the quest for the new and unusual. Britain's passion for landscape gardening was elevated to an art form in the 18th century among the nobility and gentry, that is, people who owned land and could afford to have such a hobby. It was viewed as a pursuit of the educated and sophisticated. Garden design and horticulture reached into the middle classes as well, which is where we can place Peter Collinson. His interest in all things botanical was sincere and scientifically rigorous. He also saw that his knowledge and trade networks as a merchant opened a doorway to the British elite. Heads were turned to the colonies. And as a mover and shaker and avid correspondent, Collinson had a lot of friends there. But frustratingly, friends couldn't be relied on to send him specimens, despite his repeated requests. He needed to find a collector in the colonies who shared his obsession and love of the natural world, who was committed and who had attention to detail, someone with the time and fearlessness to venture into the wilderness. Sometime in 1733, Collinson Philadelphia contacts introduced him by letter to John Bartram. Tom Reber: [18:53] People here knew that John was going out into the wilds exploring and bringing plants back, studying them, seeking knowledge, and knowing that Peter Collinson was a merchant in England and he was looking for his niche to make his money. And so, John is connected with Peter Collinson, and then becomes the purveyor of plant and animal to the nobility of basically the entirety of Europe. While John and Peter never actually meet physically, they correspond. Doug Still: [19:25] Amazing. Tom Reber: [19:26] And they write tons and actually, most, a lot of what we have today is Peter Collinson and John's correspondence that tells us about the man today. Doug Still: [19:34] Now, this went on for decades, right? Tom Reber: [19:35] It went on for decades. They might as well have been next door neighbors and best friends, because at times, they actually get very testy with each other in their [Doug laughs] writings. It's very funny to read some of them today. This is what allows John, what funds John's efforts in plant exploration, because he's one of very few people who's interested and sort of fearless in going out into the wilderness of North America and finding new things. Doug Still: [20:04] The earliest surviving letter was from Bartram to Collinson, written July 17, 1734. Interestingly, it wasn't about plants or trees at all, but about a rattlesnake he dissected, revealing the pattern of teeth and mechanism for ejecting poison. Collinson thought the account was good enough to read to his fellows at the Royal Society of London, the world's foremost scientific organization founded 70 years earlier. It was published, which must have been a thrill for young John Bartram. By then, Bartram was already shipping plants to Collinson. He had first collected seeds and specimens locally, then started making longer, more extensive expeditions up the Schuylkill River and into New Jersey for days at a time. Collinson showed his appreciation frequently, like in this letter, dated January 25th, 1735. Peter Collinson: [20:58] “My good friend, John Bartram, I am very much obliged to thee for thy two choice cargoes of plants which came very safe and in good condition, and are very curious and rare and well worth my acceptance. I'm very sensible of the great pains and many tiresome trips to collect so many rare plants scattered at a distance. I shall not forget it, but in some measure to show my gratitude, though not in proportion to thy trouble, I have sent thee a small token, a calico gown for thy wife and some odd little things that may be of use amongst the children and family.” Doug Still: [21:35] Collinson tried to be clear with his instructions. First, asking for seeds of common plants that were to be numbered in a particular way with common names attached. Before long, he sent Bartram sheets of brown and whited brown paper with which to press herbarium specimens to be included along with the seeds. Soon thereafter, living specimens were to be sent when appropriate. Collinson suggested an ingenious method for preserving live specimens after John described the loss of several during a recent trip. Peter Collinson: [00:22:07] “This accident brings to my mind, a very pretty method, by which plants will keep fresh three or four days on a journey. Take three or four large ox bladders, cut off the neck high, and when a plant is found, take it up with a little earth to the roots, put this into the bladder, then put water in the bladder to cover the roots, then tie up the neck of the bladder, close round the stalk of the plant, leaving the leaves, flowers, etc., without. Large plants won't do so well, but several small plants may be put into a bladder. When tied, hang it to the pommel, or skirts of the saddle or any other convenient way thee may choose.” Doug Still: [22:53] John Bartram's reputation as a studious collector began to grow back in England. The individual specimens he shipped caused fascination and contributed to the field of botany. But for Collinson, that was not nearly enough. He worked with patrons who sought to populate their landscape gardens with the new and exotic from around the world. Collinson was soon asking for seeds from Bartram in bulk, to be grown and sold to major estates. One young nobleman in particular became a major patron of his horticultural services and, by extension, Bartram’s. He was the 22-year-old Robert James, or Baron Petre, who had recently been elected to the Royal Society. He took up residence at Thorndon Hall in Essex, a sizable estate. He desired formal gardens, groupings of new trees, tree lined avenues and reforestation of an area around a large park. Baron Petre wanted trees, lots of them. Collinson convinced him to build an expansive collection with diversity in uncommon species. Therefore, Bartram was retained to send thousands of seeds to be germinated and grown into plantable whips. Trees like black walnut, dogwood, red cedar, red oak, American sycamore and other species. Collinson's client list was growing, and the young Baron was chief among them. Peter Collinson: [24:16] “Kind friend, John Bartram, I am just returned town from paying a visit to a noble lord, my most valuable and intimate friend. One of my proposals I sent thee last year to collect the seeds of your forest trees was for him, as he is a universal lover of plants. I presented him with a share of the seeds thou sent last year, which was very acceptable, as he is a man of noble and generous spirit. He very rationally considered thy pains and thy trouble in collecting them, and desired to make thee some returns and left it to me. If thee can compass to send 30 or 40 sorts of your herbaceous seeds every year, it will be sufficient.” Doug Still: [25:01] Bartram happily obliged. After each outing into the forest, he would return with saddlebags bulging with specimens to be boxed and shipped. Many he planted in his own garden as well for his own interest. It had become an obsession. Tom Reber: [25:15] Because all of the plant material that John is bringing from his travels in North America comes back here to this site and is grown out in what today we might think of as a trials garden arrangement. Linear beds fairly close together with really no aesthetic consideration about that. Plants planted adjacent to each other that really don't necessarily grow together in the wild, may not even be from the same region, and then studied from there. This is part of what lends it to that narrative that we hear today from George Washington and others that know call this a messy garden. Doug Still: [25:55] [chuckles] But it meant time away from the farm. And to continue this work, he asked for an annual stipend from Baron Petre. Collinson was able to negotiate a salary of 10 guineas a year, and a few other noble clients chipped in with their own sums. Bartram's hobby had quickly turned into a side business. Here's another letter from Collinson from 1735. Peter Collinson: [26:18] “Kind friend, John Bartram, I had the pleasure of thine of June 13th, and am pleased the things was acceptable. I have sent the little box of seeds to our noble friend, what he raises, I have always a share of which will produce thee some money here. The water beech or buttonwood is known here as the western plain, and is in great plenty here and makes a noble tree. Thee need not send any for it is raised plentifully by cuttings. But as for the linden or lime tree, for aught I know may be a stranger. So, pray send some seed.” Doug Still: [26:56] As for shipping, onboard thievery and looting was common, as was damage from water, livestock or a host of other reasons. But they had a special solution: ask the captains to stow the boxes under their beds in the captain’s quarters. Peter Collinson: [27:11] “There is two captains, Richmond and Wright, whom I love and esteem and will take care of anything for me. What is in casks or boxes, tell them, I will pay freight for. But little matters, as they are so kind to bring free.” Doug Still: [27:26] And later that year. Peter Collinson: [27:28] “Thee canst not think how well the little case of plants came being put under the captain's bed and saw not the light till I sent for it.” Tom Reber: [27:37] So, John, in connecting with Peter Collinson and working with shipwrights merchants to size his box to transport plants really is the first to crack the code and how to ship live or otherwise life-able plant material worldwide. Doug Still: [27:57] After expeditions to New Jersey in the interior of Pennsylvania, Bartram was urged to travel further afield by his associate armchair explorers in England. Journeys were made to Maryland, Virginia in the western frontier of New York. He traveled alone. And despite detailed instructions from Collinson about employing a servant and using multiple pack animals, he usually just had one horse with large saddlebags. Collinson and Petre gifted him a compass to use. For housing, Collinson paved the way for Bartram by letter with his network of friends and associates in the colonies. He would sometimes apologize ahead of time for Bartram's rugged dress and appearance, but in general, his hosts were greatly interested in meeting him and showing him their own gardens. John was grateful, but would sleep anywhere he could. He asked for harbor from people he met along the way and even slept on open ground. Here's a report he gave to Collinson after an expedition in 1738. John Bartram: [28:58] “I have received thy letters of recommendation to Maryland and Virginia, which I hope may assist me in my journey thither. The next day, I came to a house a good while before night where I intended to lodge. I asked them, “How far to the river?” They said two miles. I turned out my mare at a pasture. I had in mind to go there to look what kind of plants grow that way. But the man of the house not being at home, I had no guide but my pocket compass, thee sent me, which is my constant companion in my distant travels. The way being very uneven and hilly, I steered directly toward the river without either coat, jacket or hat on. It was exceedingly hot, but the way full of trees and shady.” Doug Still: [29:41] John's travels brought him in continuous contact with indigenous peoples throughout the eastern seaboard. Negotiating his safety as a solitary traveler and explaining his purpose to native tribes was an integral part of his planning. It was often risky, and he was rightly viewed with suspicion. While specimen collecting could be considered acting with a light touch, his activity, presence and very being was part of the brutal, unstoppable colonizing force that Europeans brought to North America. It's a history we know all too well. Ancestral lands were taken, hunting grounds overrun, treaties made then violated, people sickened and natural resources removed. Trees were one such resource. Furthermore, plants that were novel in 18th century London had, of course, been known to Native Americans for eons. But the more western science came to know about the botany of North America, the more forests could be plundered for the benefit of unseen powers in Europe without any reciprocity. We shouldn't forget this part of the story. John Bartram's farm in Kingsessing, Philadelphia and much of the surrounding area was the ancestral home of the Lenape people, who inhabited the region for thousands of years. The Quakers and other settlers had displaced them. John had a personal reason to be fearful wherever he went. When a teenager, John's father and stepmother moved to Carolina to start a new settlement with other Quakers leaving John and his brother, William, behind with their grandmother. Vigorously defending their homeland, the local Cherokee of Carolina brutally killed his father and the other white men of the settlement. They abducted his stepmother, who later escaped with her newborn baby to tell the tale. The Berkeley's book, The Life and Travels of John Bartram, shines a light on many of his own interactions with indigenous peoples in fascinating detail drawn from his writings. For an example, an entire chapter is devoted to Bartram's journey to upstate New York to the headquarters of the Five Nations of the Iroquois Confederacy composed of the Seneca, Cayuga, Onondaga, Oneida and Mohawk tribes. In 1720, the Tuscarora were admitted as the sixth nation. Bartram's trip to Onondaga, their capital, was planned with the help from Conrad Weiser, Pennsylvania's main ambassador to the Iroquois. It was seen as a peace seeking mission, and Bartram could explore the vast forests. He later sent a written account of the six-week trip to Collinson that was so engaging that he had it published in London to great popularity. It included accounts of dinners with important chiefs, a sketch of an Iroquois longhouse and descriptions of their farms. John wrote with appreciation about the food shared with them, bowls of boiled squash, venison, bread and fruit, and all the ways that hospitality was extended to them. He learned about the trees sacred to the Iroquois and how they were used, sugar maple, hickory, chestnut and oak. A PDF copy of the original published book of 1751 can be found online via the Biodiversity Heritage Library. I recommend it as a fascinating view into the past. Through the 1740s, 1750s, and 1760s, John Bartram's reputation continued to grow, and he made substantial contributions to the emerging fields of botany and plant taxonomy. His discoveries were championed by the Royal Society in London and its fellows, and he was eventually recognized as a leading authority on natural history in the American colonies. Tom Reber: [33:20] In horticulture, the Bartram’s are some of THE first and best known North American botanists. John is spoken about in the same realms as Peter Kelm, André Michaux, Carl Linnaeus actually. Doug Still: [33:41] Carl Linnaeus, a Swedish biologist and physician, is often known as the father of modern taxonomy. His binomial system of nomenclature for species is still used today. Bartram and Linnaeus knew and respected each other. And the humble Quaker from Pennsylvania often mixed it up with this towering figure of botanical history. Tom Reber: [34:02] John has his own botanical nomenclature and scientific nomenclature that disagrees with Linnaean nomenclature. Doug Still: [34:09] Really? Tom Reber: [34:10] Yes. Doug Still: [34:10] I knew that Linnaeus was aware of John Bartram's activities, and what he was looking for. Tom Reber: [34:14] They definitely were. They disagreed on nomenclature and stuff, but they also corresponded about nomenclature. Doug Still: [34:21] Bartram became a fixture of intellectual life at his home base of Philadelphia as well. This is where he met another one of his champions in the 1730s, Benjamin Franklin. Although Bartram was six years his senior, the youthful but worldly Franklin rose to fame and wealth as a newspaper editor and printer, publishing the Pennsylvania Gazette at the age of 23. He followed with Poor Richard's Almanack shortly after. The two shared a fundamental interest in the natural world and remained close friends throughout their lives. Tom Reber: [34:54] So, Ben Franklin was one of John Bartram's patrons. Doug Still: [34:58] Amazing. Tom Reber: [34:59] Incredible. One of the things that John Bartram is seeking in payment for plant exploration is knowledge. And Ben Franklin unlocks knowledge for him. Doug Still: [35:11] Bartram was lucky enough to be a subscriber to the library company of Philadelphia, the first lending library of the Americas founded by Franklin. Then, in 1743, Franklin founded the American Philosophical Society, a scholarly organization promoting knowledge of the sciences and humanities. It was modeled after the Royal Society of London, for which Bartram had already published. Franklin recruited Bartram as a founding member. Both men were essentially self-taught. So, maybe Franklin was drawn to Bartram, because he saw a bit of himself. Throughout their lives, he enjoyed following John's work as a boots on the ground naturalist. He often encouraged Bartram to write a natural history of the Americas, but writing skills weren't his forte and he never completed it. Franklin was fascinated by botany. An example of their lifelong correspondence comes with this amazing letter from Paris of May, 1777, the last year of Bartram's life. It's amazing to me at least, because when Franklin wrote this letter, he was setting the stage for The Treaty of Alliance with France, which was crucial to the success of the newly formed United States during the Revolutionary War. As a diplomat, Franklin had the weight of the world on his shoulders. Yet, he found time to write to John Bartram with some nuts and bolts instructions about seeds. Benjamin Franklin: [36:35] “My dear old friend, the communication between Britain and North America being cut off. The French botanists cannot in that channel be supplied, as formerly, with American seeds, etc. If you or one of your sons incline to continue that business, you may, I believe, send the same number of boxes here for what it wants in that way. Enclosed is a list of sorts wished for here. If you consign them to me, I will take care of the sale and returns for you. There will be no difficulty in importation, as the matter is countenanced by the ministry for whom I received the list. My love to Mrs. Bartram and your children. I am ever my dear friend. Yours most affectionately, B. Franklin.” Doug Still: [37:21] It's no wonder then that the special new tree species the Bartram’s found in Georgia was named after Benjamin Franklin, the Franklinia. And yes, that's Bartram's, plural, which brings us to John's third son, William, a key member of the story of the Franklin tree. How'd he get a part in this? Well, John found pleasure in that at least one of his children showed interest in his botanical hobby, and that was young Billy, as he was called. Credit, Edmund and Dorothy Smith Berkeley for much of this research on young William Bartram. In one sense, John enjoyed traveling alone on collecting expeditions, but part of him wanted to share his discoveries and love of nature out in the field, and also carry some of the burden. Wrote John, “I am often exposed to solitary and difficult traveling beyond our inhabitants, and often under dangerous circumstances, in passing over rivers, climbing over mountain and precipices amongst the rattlesnakes, and often obliged to follow the track or path of wild beasts for my guide through these desolate and gloomy thickets.” His children begrudgingly followed along when forced, but it was Billy who found the spark after a few collecting trips. At the very least, it sure beat farm work. John began calling him, his little botanist. At age 14, he accompanied him on a rigorous trip to the Catskills, well documented in John's journal. During the journey, each was weakened by fever at different times, the other picking up the slack. After the arduous trip, a shipment of four seed boxes was sent to the Prince of Wales, and William Bartram's name was included on the published list of available product. Billy's enthusiasm began to grow. He started sketching the specimens they found together. And the sketches soon developed into technically proficient botanical drawings. Impressed, John sent some of them to Collinson, who remarked on his talent. Billy’s intellect convinced the Bartram’s to send them to the academy in Philadelphia as a young teenager, an institution that eventually became the University of Pennsylvania. Tom Reber: [39:35] So, John and William were an interesting pair here. From my familiarity with some of each of their writings and just the history, they were very similar. William, oftentimes at younger ages, was seen as that prodigal son by John. William was the creative. William was an artist. He was not a farmer. He also was not a botanist by training, initially, at least. He finds this. John gets very frustrated with William, as William is flailing around trying to find his path and direction and place in the world. But through all of this, William is always drawing and always painting. Actually, some of the earliest drawings of the map of the garden and even botanical illustrations do come from William for this place. Doug Still: [40:32] Billy wanted to draw, and John became concerned about his son settling on a proper career. Botany and drawing didn't seem viable, and hard labor definitely wasn't going to cut it with this somewhat delicate boy. They thought maybe a mercantile career was the answer. Meanwhile, Billy began drawing turtles. They were so exquisite that Collinson gave them to the editor of Gentleman's Magazine to be engraved for the publication. William's drawings even caught the attention of George Ehret, England's renowned botanical illustrator. His work was not only beautiful, but meticulously accurate, offering scientific value. Regarding his career, however, even Ben Franklin weighed in with some advice, suggesting an apprenticeship with an engraver in Philadelphia. But by the time he was 18, it was determined that he should move to North Carolina to work under the wing of his uncle, William, who was a merchant operating a trading post. Billy slogged away there for seven years and learned the trade. He sometimes sent his father specimens upon request, but more frequently, he gave his parents fits for falling out of contact. He was an unmotivated correspondent. John didn't know it then, but he need not have worried. William Bartram was to find lasting fame as America's first native born natural history artist, and a writer and explorer of the southeast landscape. His fortunes changed in 1765 when he received a letter from his father recruiting him on a trip into the forests of Georgia in northern Florida. After a short break, we'll tag along on the trip that brought us Franklinia alatamaha, the Franklin tree. This is This Old Tree. [theme music] [harpsichord music] Big news. John Bartram had been awarded the title of his Majesty's Botanist for North America. This appears to be a supplement to the title of “His Majesty's Botanist” stationed in Britain, a position that still exists today in an honorary capacity. At the time, France had its own King's Botanist, André Michaux, but that is another story. John was thrilled by the honor, and he was to receive a salary of £50 per year. That was a relatively paltry sum that displeased Bartram, which he complained about loudly to Collinson. Anyway, John sent a letter to his son, Billy, to share the news and to let him know he was coming south on assignment to Florida, and he needed his son's help. John Bartram: [43:22] “Dear son, William, soon after cousin Smith set off for Cape Fear, I received a particular account that our King had appointed me his Chief Botanist, and I am ordered to go directly to Florida. I have taken passage in a vessel bound to Augustine and thence to Pensacola with my good friend, General Bouquet, for whose sake I go sooner than I intended. Perhaps, the vessel may touch at Charlestown. It is some question whether I shall not stay about Augustine or Georgia this summer, and perhaps winter in the Peninsula or East Florida, but I can't tell which till I speak to Governor Grant and the superintendent of Indian Affairs, whom I must consult. I am daily writing for further orders and recommendations from court. But our friend, Peter, ordered me to take my son or a servant with me. As thee wrote to me last winter and seemed so desirous to go there, now thee hath a fair opportunity. So, pray. Let me know as soon as possible. Our vessel is to sail in about two or three weeks.” Doug Still: [44:16] Florida had recently opened up to British colonists. The Treaty of Paris of 1763 ended the Seven Year’s War, also known as the French and Indian War. As a result, Great Britain received Spanish Florida. It was open for exploration as much as indigenous tribes allowed, and the area was of great interest to science and plant collectors. The newly appointed King's Botanist was urged to go there. He received detailed instructions from Collinson. He was to make observations on the soil and topography, and to collect specimens of ore, plants, insects, shells and fossils to be shipped from Pensacola, St. Augustine and Charlestown. He was to sail first to Charlestown and procure horses there. Leaving July 1st, 1765, the sea voyage took six days from Philadelphia to Charlestown. Along the way, Bartram became very sick and dizzy, not used to being at sea. Upon arrival, Bartram lodged for several days at the home of Dr. Alexander Garden, with whom Bartram had corresponded for many years. Billy had agreed to go. And his job was to provide drawings of their finds. So, John went a few hundred miles north to the town of Ashwood to visit his brother, William, and retrieve his son. They returned to Charlestown two weeks later, of course collecting plants and making observations about soils along the way. On the last day of August, John and Billy set off for Savannah. The departure of His Majesty's Botanist captured the public's interest in an article printed in the South Carolina Gazette. On the first night of their journey, they reached Willtown, South Carolina, but were refused lodging by the tight knit community there. They were prejudiced against Quakers. One owner reluctantly agreed to let them sleep on the floor of a rat-infested corn crib behind his house. They reached Savannah on September 4th, passing large estates along the way. John wrote to his wife, Ann. John Bartram: [46:16] “My dear spouse, this day, we arrived at Savannah town in Georgia by 10 o’clock. This was reckoned a very hot day here, with thunder and showers. Thermometer 86. They have had here, as well as at Charlestown, the hottest summer and wettest August that hath been for many years. Many great bridges is broken down, and we were forced to swim our horses over. But God Almighty be praised, we got safe into Georgia. Strange it is that in all this dreadful season for thunder and prodigious rain, we have not had occasion to put a greatcoat on in both the Carolinas, nor rested one day on account of rain. But we can't expect to be favored for so long. However, God's will be done. We are now hardy and has a good stomach. The people say that if we can weather this month, we need not fear. We have been pestered these two mornings and evenings with very large mosquitoes, but their bite is not near so venomous as the small sort at Charlestown.” Doug Still: [47:11] The two then made a long trip up to Augusta, Georgia to visit a colleague, and arrived back in Savannah on September 20th through heavy rains. Bedraggled, they dined with Governor James Wright, the last Royal Governor of Georgia. They waited for the floodwaters to go down and the ground to dry. And after all this, they finally left for Florida on September 30th. They headed south and were hosted for a night in Riceboro. They wrote about a magnificent stand of longleaf pine, one of which they measured 90 ft to the first limb and another, 28 ft to the top. In addition to pine barrens, they walked through groups of palmettos, dwarf oaks, and another tree described as “resembling a catalpa, with pods as round as an acorn.” One prized tree, front and center within John Bartram's radar, was the loblolly-bay Gordonia lasianthus. It is a shrubby evergreen tree with a camellia-like flower, not unlike the Franklin Tree. Bartram had previously encountered it in North Carolina and had begun growing it back in his home garden. They would have encountered it throughout the coastal plain they were currently passing through. They hoped to reach Fort Barrington before dark, a small outpost situated on the Altamaha River. Instead, they missed a turning point and spent the night four miles below the fort. However, this was the day that John and William Bartram encountered something new. They found two “very curious shrubs,” as written in John's journal. One is known today as the fevertree, Pinckneya pubens. The other was a small tree never seen before by European eyes. It was short statured with ovate leaves like the loblolly bay, but it was different. Its leaves were clustered at the ends of long, delicately twisting branches which likely were beginning to turn a gorgeous magenta red, as it was early fall. There wouldn’t have been any visible flowers this late in the season. Maybe they saw the notable dehiscent seed capsule splitting into four parts. What we do know is that they didn't take any seeds or collect a specimen. Perhaps, they were exhausted after getting lost all day in difficult swampland. All they did was note the two “very curious shrubs.” This was the tree that would eventually be known as Franklinia alatamaha, the Franklin tree. So, that's it? No raves or effusive language? Well, yes, for this trip anyway, but we'll get back to that. They eventually made their way to Florida, making it as far as the St. John River flowing into modern day Jacksonville, and then St. Augustine. The mission was very fruitful and John's journals were edited by Collinson and became well regarded. The King's Botanist had made his first and last extensive expedition. John returned to Philadelphia by boat from St. Augustine the following March. He had been away from home for 10 months. Somewhat sick and beaten down, John was urged to end his collecting outings by Collinson and others. Here's Ben Franklin. Ben Franklin: [50:31] “My dear old friend, I hope your health continues as mine does hitherto, but I wish you would now decline your long and dangerous peregrinations in search of your plants, and remain safe and quiet at home, employing your leisure hours and work that is much wanted and which no one besides is so capable performing.” Doug Still: [50:52] Billy decided to stay on in Florida to begin a plantation, which was a miserable failure. But a few years later, he resumed his botanical and scientific explorations of Georgia and Florida, picking up where his father left off with service to wealthy British patrons. The baton had been passed, and Billy never forgot that beautiful tree near the Alatamaha. He revisited the tree several times, once in 1773, and again in 1776. It is possible he made more visits. It is uncertain when exactly he took seeds or a live specimen to Kingsessing to be planted in Bartram's garden. William Bartram often confused his dates. He sometimes conflated his trips when he wrote about them in his famous 1791 work, travels through North and South Carolina, Georgia, and East and West Florida. But here's his description of a return trip to find that elegant little tree. William Bartram: [51:49] “After my return from the Creek Nation, I employed myself during the spring and forepart of summer in revisiting the several districts in Georgia and the east borders of Florida, where I had noted the most curious subjects, collecting them together and shipping them off to England. I had the opportunity of observing the new flowering shrub resembling the Gordonia in perfect bloom, as well as bearing ripe fruit. It is a flowering tree of the first order for beauty and fragrance of blossoms. The tree grows 15 ft or 20 ft high, branching alternately. The leaves are oblong, broadest towards their extremities and terminate with an acute point, which is generally a little reflexed. The flowers are very large, expand themselves perfectly, are of a snow-white color and ornamented with a crown or tassel of gold colored refulgent stamina in their center. This very curious tree was first taken notice of about 10 or 12 years ago at this place, when I attended my father, John Bartram, on a botanical excursion. But it being late in the autumn, we could form no opinion to what class or tribe it belonged. We never saw it grow in any other place, nor have I ever since seen it growing wild. In all my travels. At this place, there are two or three acres of ground where it grows plentifully.” Doug Still: [53:16] William was collecting seeds and shipping them to Dr. John Fothergill, his father's former patron, and now his own. British gardening records at the Royal Botanic Garden at Kew suggest Franklinia was introduced to cultivation in 1774, but the dates are uncertain. After growing the tree in Bartram's Garden, William made the first extraordinary botanical drawing of a branch of the tree in full flower, which is now housed in the Natural History Museum in London. In 1785, it was determined by botanists in Europe that, indeed, this was a new species. William Bartram made sure to name it after their close friend and lifelong patron, Benjamin Franklin. John Bartram passed away in 1777, but he would have been very pleased. A full, scholarly and entertaining account of how the trees botanical recognition unfolded between both continents can be found in Joel Fry's seminal publications on the subject. When future visits were made by William and others to the lowlands near the Alatamaha River in the early 18th century, the Franklinia was nowhere to be found. It was gone. Since this is the only place in the world where it was ever found, it was that horrible E word - extinct - in the wild. So, what happened? Tom Reber: [54:36] Yes. So, this is one of the mysteries. A few different conspiracy theories crop up in the next 125, 150 years or so. Doug Still: [54:46] Like, what would be one conspiracy theory? Tom Reber: [54:48] So, one of them that I hear is that diseases brought in with cotton plants for the plantations in the southern United States may have decimated the native populations of Franklinia. I don't believe that, actually, because we don't see any transmission of diseases specific to cotton to Franklinia today. There is another theory that just land clearing, eventually - they cut through all of the stands that were out in the wild. I also don't believe that, because to do that, you would have to clear cut so much. While the trees of North America were virtually entirely clear cut in the 19th century, that wasn't happening in the same way in the 1700s and 18th century. Doug Still: [55:33] Right. Tom Reber: [55:35] The thing that I think is more plausible here, is that forest thinning with clearing land for plantations ended up putting Franklinia stands into a much higher temperature root zone, and that there was much more traffic going through those areas and these plants absolutely despise compaction. Doug Still: [55:58] It's very sensitive. Tom Reber: [56:00] It's incredibly sensitive. They're very shallow rooted. Doug Still: [56:03] So, without the Bartram’s, no Franklinia would exist today. Tom Reber: [56:07] So, because it's never rediscovered in the wild, anything that's in cultivation came from the nursery it was cultivated at. This is the nursery. Bartram's Garden is the nursery where Franklinia was cultivated and distributed from. But every Franklinia that exists today can trace its lineage back to this site because of that. Doug Still: [56:27] I just wonder if there's anyone out there dreaming that there might still be one out there, or some out there. Tom Reber: [56:33] There definitely are people who dream and hope that one day, they may find Franklinia in the wild again. Doug Still: [56:40] The garden has really made an effort to extend out into the neighboring community. Can you tell me about that? Tom Reber: [56:46] It has. So, in the modern history of Bartram's Garden as an organization, much of the John Bartram Association focus has been on the Bartram history, specifically John, a little bit more William, but not even so much Ann. And in the last, I'd say, 12 years or so with our current director, Maitreyi Roy, we've made significant efforts to reverse that because the effect of that over decades has been that this has really been treated as a museum, and an insular place, and as a place that people will seek out from outside of our neighborhood. We've wanted to change that around here because of the iniquities and injustices that are at our doorstep, and are our neighborhood and our neighbors. Doug Still: [57:38] It might be the only chance to see real green in the neighborhood. Tom Reber: [57:42] Definitely. Especially with, as were talking before, less than 1% canopy tree coverage here. We're the only green space park asset for Fairmount Park in southwest Philly. There are other rec centers in southwest Philly, but you have to go to west Philly or south Philly or down to the airport to the John Heinz Wildlife Refuge in order to get this type of green space. So, we are the backyard for our immediate neighbors. Doug Still: [58:11] So important. Tom Reber: [58:12] Which is vitally important. We prize not just being that sanctuary and open space to come visit and get away from the daily grind and the day to day, but also to offer programming and education, and do it in such a way that it's free and open for all. Or, if it's not free, that there is absolutely affordability to it, where access is available to anybody who's seeking it and wants to be here. Doug Still: [58:42] Are there John and William Bartram’s societies or research groups? What is the legacy of John and William Bartram? Tom Reber: [58:52] So, the quick answer on groups, is that, yes, there are a number of John and William Bartram groups, notably down in the southeastern United States. There is the John Bartram or the William Bartram trail. There's a William Bartram trail conference every year that is about plant exploration and particularly, North American plant material. There are other researchers, really, worldwide who focus specifically on John or William Bartram. Doug Still: [59:23] When you're working in this historic garden and your thoughts go to the Bartram’s, what do you think about? Tom Reber: [59:29] Oh, that's a good question. I think about the joy of the natural world, the joy of plants. But it's not just plants, it's flora and fauna. But I think about this interest in exploring the unknown and discovering things that are new to you, reframing your outlook on the world, and how nature can help us see beyond our own blinders. That's really, I think, what I end up getting to with both John and William here. Doug Still: [01:00:07] In a way that's come full circle in what the garden's doing now. Tom Reber: [01:00:10] It very much has, because that narrative is absolutely core to our-- really, I will call it the social justice aspect of our organization. Doug Still: [01:00:22] Why is the Franklinia tree important now? What does it inspire in people? Tom Reber: [01:00:28] It is a really good story. It's a native extinct tree. It's a tree that doesn't want to grow but can be grown. It blooms at an odd time of year. It's a horticulturist's tree. It's a challenge. Doug Still: [01:00:47] Right. Tom Reber: [01:00:47] That's what Franklinia offers to people. So, you get this tree with a really interesting story that's beautiful, but that also has a name and lineage that is easy to tie to the history of the United States itself too. Doug Still: [01:01:04] Tom, thanks so much for spending time with me in the garden, and showing me Bartram's world and your world. Tom Reber: [01:01:11] It's been wonderful to sit here in front of the tree and talk about all of this today, Doug. Doug Still: [01:01:16] Thanks. You're the best. Tom Reber: [01:01:17] Likewise. Doug Still: [01:01:18] The Franklin tree at Bartram's garden is rare and lovely. Some would even say, it's an attention getter. But it's the backstory that really makes it special, and its connection to the lives of the original owners of the historic property where it stands. It satisfies that botanist fantasy I have in me, if only vicariously, through the Bartram’s. It's a symbol that urges us to keep being curious and to keep learning about things, not only far away, but right before our eyes. [harpsichord music] Thank you, tree lovers, for joining me to find the path that led to the Franklin tree. A warm thanks to Tom Reber for hosting me at Bartram's Garden and telling the story. I'd also like to thank my talented readers for bringing the characters' voices to life: Nigel Holmes, Mike Savard, Mike Sweney and Josh Abrams. The delightful 18th century harpsichord music was played by Miyuki Tsurutani. I had a ball recording it with you. The show's theme music is by Dee Lee. I'll post pictures of the Franklin Tree in Bartram's Garden on Facebook and Instagram. The show website is thisoldtree.show, where you can find more information in the show transcript. I'm Doug Still, and you've been listening to This Old Tree. Until next time. [Transcript provided by SpeechDocs Podcast Transcription]
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