Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: WEDNESDAY, April 25, 1990 TAG: 9004250299
SECTION: NATIONAL/INTERNATIONAL PAGE: A2 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: Cox News Service
DATELINE: AUSTIN, TEXAS LENGTH: Medium
Together with visitors from other states, they have been behaving as if the legendary and beloved Treaty Oak somehow might summon the strength to stretch its magnificent branches their way and rustle its leaves in acknowledgment.
If it's comfort they want from the tree, it isn't obliging.
If it's hope they seek - a sign that the tree will overcome the deliberate poisoning that strangles - it's not forthcoming.
If it's forgiveness they want, it's probably too late.
Treaty Oak is more dead than alive.
Spring has laid a plush new carpet of grass beneath the towering live oak that is reputed to have been the spot where Stephen F. Austin signed the first boundary treaty with the Indians.
Through the decades, Treaty Oak's wide canopy has sheltered brides and grooms, family reunions and picnickers from the sweltering sun of summer. But this spring, its canopy is like an umbrella minus its canvas.
Save for one major extremity that sprouts new leaves, the tree of Texas legend no longer can be described as grand. Treaty Oak is apocalyptic in appearance. Two-thirds of the crown is dead, says John Giedraitis, the city's urban forester.
New laboratory results offer some hope for only one of the tree's three major limbs. Analysis of its new leaves shows the deliberately poured poison, Velpar, is undetectable, or barely traceable. Yet, even if that one extremity - the northwest limb - does survive (and the scientists will withhold their verdict until late summer) it will live as an aberration, in contrast to rotting, naked limbs that stretch southward and eastward.
Experts from near and far have been inspecting and attending to the tree now for almost a year, ever since the poisoning was discovered. But now, it is apparent even to visitors with no scientific training that Treaty Oak is all but lost.
It is obvious in the notes that are attached to the chain that fences the oak. Where earlier messages overwhelmingly were full of inspiration, there now is almost a competition in gloom.
"A sadness fills the heart and soul, to see such beauty which once was whole," wrote M.S.S. of Maine. "Forgive mankind for selfishness, and know that you are loved no less. Live on in our hearts."
And this message, in a child's handwriting:
"Dear Treaty Oak,
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
You are dying
But I don't want you to."
Love, Janie
by CNB