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| Railroad tracks through the redwoods at or near Big Trees Grove, circa 1900-1920 - Santa Cruz County Historic Photograph Collection, University of California, Santa Cruz |
In 1913 Englishman Arthur T. Johnson toured America and recorded his impressions of the landscape and culture. He journeyed to both the giant sequoia and redwood forests of California. These are his impressions of American logging practices, the Santa Cruz Mountains and visiting Big Trees Grove:
"… I began the ascent of a long and hilly road which was to take me over the Southern base of the San Francisco peninsula. Far down on my right, the Lorenzo river flowed through a jungle of willows, hazels, azaleas, and wild raspberry, while above these, clinging to the grey, crumbling rocks, soaring to the summit of the hills which wall that narrow gorge, were the splendid redwoods, or 'Big Trees,' of Santa Cruz."
"… I cannot enter deeply into the ruthless destruction that has been going on for so long in these timber belts. Private volumes and 'Blue Books' have been issued by Americans themselves, relating to the wholesale extinction of these forests by the axe, to the tremendous national loss annually involved by avaricious merchants and adventurers, and to the serious effect of this universal [deforestation] upon climate and soil. Nevertheless, it still continues unabated, save in the few restricted areas, and the time is not far off — the present generation will probably live to see it when the great timber forests of North - Western America (to include the Oregon pine and others), which were the greatest national treasures in the States, will be no more. I do not speak as a sentimentalist. I am not addicted to scare mongering, and I, of course, admit the legality and morality of lumbering. But I do protest (though it may be no business of mine) against the wanton waste of material which that lumbering involves."
"I have stated in an earlier chapter that these noble trees have been subjected, even within the sanctuaries set aside for their protection, to much base usage at the hands of the philistine, and I do not intend to say much more upon so melancholy a subject. There has also been a great deal of nonsense written as to their age and other features, with the intention of arresting the attention of the Californian native or anyone else who is ready to be stuffed with the highly-seasoned sensationalism of the 'booster', folder-writer, and pseudo-patriot. It is not enough for these people to learn that the oldest Sequoia is probably not more than two thousand five hundred years old. They must draw upon their imaginations, and add another six or seven thousand years on the top of that. The redwood, the noblest living thing on the American continent today, would appear, even at the age of ten centuries, to be capable of much added lustre. thus we find it stated that it was probably from these groves that the pillars of Solomon's Temple were hewn. But the patriot who exclaims 'My country, tis of thee' (and spits on it), can do with a lot of that sort of thing. He revels in it, and, with a pin, sticks his visiting-card on the bark of 'Theo. Roosevelt' or 'General Grant', and, having uttered a cat-call, so that he may hear the echo of his own voice adown the echoing aisles of the forest, retires well pleased with himself.
"I have always had a certain admiration for the Colonel [Theodore Roosevelt], for his virility and fearlessness as a critic, and there are few men in official positions who have done more for the preservation of the natural resources of his country than he has done. Hence, I marvel that he should allow his name to be stuck on these venerable trees, and from what I know of General Grant (I take his name at random from a number of others) I feel sure he would never have permitted his name to be used for such an ill-starred purpose. Supposing we emulated the example of the people who are responsible for this kind of vandalism, and painted the name of 'Lord Kitchener' on the Great Pyramid, and hung a ticket with the legend 'Charles Dickens' round the neck of the Sphinx, what would the world say? Such a state of affairs is inconceivable. But your American evidently does not think so. He must see everything through coloured glasses. Nature's architecture is not good enough for him."
"The great beauty of the redwood is the wonderful
symmetry of its stem, which, rising, a fluted column from a firm, spreading
base, ascends to a height of some three hundred feet, a living symbol of
perfect art. The prototype of the Doric pillar, it is the expression of
strength, solidity, and permanence, embodied with that elegance and symmetry,
with that consciousness of its power, that every work of art must have. There
are no specious rhapsodies of bough or twig (the old trees are very snagged and
deficient in foliage), no flamboyant ornament to trick the eye and create a
false impression, but, sufficient in itself, conscious of its mightiness, its
superb grace and dignity, the redwood is today the living spirit of one of the
most perfect art forms the world has ever seen."
"The ground beneath the redwoods is, in those few
areas where the trees have been saved from fire and axe, deep with the soft
brown leaves of centuries. The footfalls of the summer crowds are hushed (would
that their voices were!). The light is dim, even in midsummer, but in morning
or evening the low sun shines through the mullioned windows of the forest,
piercing the gloom with shafts of silver. Save human voices, no sound ever
breaks the cloistered hush of those venerable shades. To be there alone gave me
that sensation of haunting loneliness which comes to one when he finds himself
the only living being among the tombs of some great cathedral. Many a time have
I gone into the dim quietude of a red wood grove, full of the determination to
try and better understand their classic beauty; but as often have I retreated
with my imagination stirred, but only half-satisfied. Like the birds and the
squirrels, the grass and the flowers, I ever sought the light and the sunshine
and closer companion ship of the more sympathetic outside world."
"And often, too, would the words of Walt Whitman, in 'The
Song of the Redwood-Tree,' come back to me with a strange pathos, as I went my
way through those miles of stricken forest, where the tall stumps of woodland
giants, charred by fire or gnawed by the axe, stand like monuments to the
fallen dead …"
"The old trees are protected against fire by a bark of
enormous thickness (six inches to two feet), and the lower part of their
columns is usually free of branches. Furthermore, they are devoid of the highly
inflammable resinous ducts of the pines, and, being allied to the yew, they
will send up a 'second growth' of robust poles from the base of a stump,
whether the parent has been killed by the axe or scorched by fire. Thus a
redwood forest will, in some measure, restore itself, if allowed to do so, by
this vigorous 'second growth,' while a pine wood never will. In this there is
hope, and a people, even supposing we consider the redwood from a commercial stand
point only, who do not lend every possible aid to this recuperative process,
deserve the unqualified denunciation of every nation under heaven."
"Having stayed two days at Big Trees, I continued my up-hill way for some miles ...
A.T. (Arthur Tysilio) Johnson (1873-1956) was a schoolmaster and wrote several gardening books. He described the book on his California travels as "... a record of observations of the simple and everyday things of life in the Far West ... [and] I have steered clear of her politics ... or the vexatious question of alien immigration." He also skirted what he called "... the most poignant topic" in America at the time - the labor issue and "increasing bitterness against the rich."
The more things change, the more they stay the same.
Jean-Baptiste Alphonse Karr
Source: California – An Englishman’s Impressions of the Golden State, by Arthur T. Johnson, 1913.
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