Our faces were turned upward, towards a gnarled oak tree that
rose before us. Fifty feet up in its branches
was my forestry lab partner, Liz, our hero of the day. Like us, she had come prepared as well – a wide
piece of lumber had been nestled among the limbs on which she stood, like the
beginnings of a tree house. A climbing
harness and ropes were laid out over the branches. One of these ropes was attached to a metal
bucket which carried cold sandwiches up the tree to Liz throughout the day.
I remember looking down at my sign which read, “Don’t Pave
Paradise,” a line which referenced that quintessential environmentalist song Big Yellow Taxi by Joni Mitchell from 1970. I however, being a young and inexperienced activist,
thought that the band Counting Crows had written the song when they did a cover
of it thirty years later. Regardless of
who sang the line, “They paved paradise
and put up a parking lot,” it was perfect for our situation – the year was
2004 and Cornell University administrators planned to pave Redbud Woods, a
small, historic patch of woodland, and put up a parking lot for students.
Photo: View of Redbud Woods from the back porch of 660 Stewart Ave., circa Nov. 2004, Ithaca
Although covering only about two acres, Redbud Woods was no
ordinary patch of trees – the mansion at 660 Stewart Avenue and its wooded
backyard was the original family estate of Robert H. Treman, a banker and
Cornell alumnus who helped preserve the area’s breathtaking gorges. Ithaca’s Treman State Park is named for this
historic figure. Treman planned for his
land to be ''left to nature as the best gardener,'' and Redbud Woods was part
of the University Hill Historic District created by the city of Ithaca. Along with thirty other students, I had the
pleasure of living at this old estate for one semester, which I considered to
be by far the best undergraduate housing on campus. In the mid-spring, I remember looking out the
window of my dorm room inside the crumbling mansion, and seeing small redbud
trees interspersed amongst the big oaks brightening up the woods with their warm
magenta flowers. Just beyond, were the
clear waters of Lake Cayuga.
Photo: Eastern Redbud (Cercis canadensis) in flower
Standing outside that November day, neither I nor the other
students knew what we were up against.
The tree sit-in was just the first of many protests. For eight hours, Liz calmly sat in the oak
tree, until 5pm when Cornell University police finally arrested her, charging her
on five accounts, including reckless endangerment, disorderly conduct, and
resisting arrest. What followed was a
nearly year-long battle to save Redbud Woods.
Cornell students, Ithaca College students, Cornell faculty, Ithaca
residents, Ithaca historical society members, and even the former mayor of
Ithaca valiantly fought for Redbud Woods.
There were appeals to Cornell administration and the local landmarks
preservation council. There were three New York Times articles and dozens of
local and campus news articles. There
was a constant occupation of Redbud Woods by protestors. There was even a six hour student lock-in at the
Cornell University president’s office. With
all the efforts going on, you would have thought northern spotted owls were living
in Redbud Woods. But after all that, at
the end of July 2005, protestors had no other option but to watch in dismay as
bright yellow bulldozers plowed down Redbud Woods. A 176 car parking lot was carved onto the
hillside where redbuds and Robert Treman had once lived. The Cornell president at the time called the
paving of Redbud Woods a “compromise” since the new parking lot was designed to
be “sustainable.”
As an employee of Cornell Cooperative Extension, I’ve had
the pleasure of going back to Ithaca for various work-related meetings. I always like to re-walk the campus and see the
areas that I used to know so well. Ambling
through the Cornell Plantations or walking around Beebe Lake remind me of what
originally drew me to Cornell – the trees, the natural areas, the hidden gems
of beauty right on Cornell’s campus. What
I don’t visit is a “sustainable” parking lot.
If I did though, I’d come across a small plaque. Apparently, it reads:
Redbud Woods - The land
before you was once home to the extended family of Robert H. Treman, creator of
parks and protector of green spaces throughout Tompkins County. The woodland
that grew up here was inhabited for decades by diverse fauna and more than
fifty plant species, including numerous redbud trees. Redbud Woods was razed on
July 20, 2005 by the Cornell administration to build a parking lot. This plaque
has been erected by Ithaca community members in memory of this cherished
woodland. Remember the trees… Remember all who tried to save them.
Cornell administrators clearly failed with Redbud Woods. Now, six years later, student protestors have long since graduated, and the enormous controversy has been relegated to a mere plaque. One time I asked my sister who is now a student at Cornell, “Did you ever know about Redbud Woods?” “Oh, yeah, I think I heard about that once,” was her reply. I guess it is true that you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone… Thankfully, since then, Cornell University has created and met real goals of environmental protection and sustainability both on and off campus.
Now that I’ve told the story of Redbud Woods, I hope you can understand my dismay upon learning that a similar story may be playing out at Virginia Tech where I did my graduate work. Like Cornell, I have fond memories of Virginia Tech – jogging along the Huckleberry Trail, watching the geese float by in the duck pond, reading a book beneath the trees on the Drillfield… It is these types of experiences in natural areas that create a sense of place and strengthen our connection to the land, our campus, and our community.
Photo: Student reading on Virginia Tech's Drillfield, Blacksburg, VA
Unfortunately, one such natural area on Virginia Tech’s campus is at risk of being turned into an indoor practice field. Tucked behind the football stadium is fifteen acres of old growth forest known as Stadium Woods. Surrounded by campus buildings and fenced-off pastures, it is amazing that one of the last remaining vestiges of old growth forest remains right on Virginia Tech’s campus. White oaks over 300 years old tower above native flowering dogwoods below. Stadium Woods is a unique habitat and a vital teaching area for the forestry program. As a Virginia Tech alumna, it is my opinion that not one oak should fall in the name of football.
I hope that the story of Redbud Woods lives on and is not repeated at Virginia Tech. Let it serve as an allegory and a warning… a warning that we all need to recognize the value of our woods, our forests, our wetlands, our beaches, and all our other natural lands BEFORE the threat of development looms, not after. We need to erect commemorative plaques and signs communicating the value and history of a place BEFORE the bulldozers come, not after. We need to teach our children what a redbud tree or a 300 year old white oak looks like before they are gone. In essence, what we need to do is to shift our focus. We need to stop thinking of our urban woodlands as undeveloped or abandoned lots and wastelands. Instead, we need to think of them as existing or potential parks, gardens, and niches of nature that we all need and value in an ever increasingly urbanized world. Until then, they’ll keep paving paradise and putting up parking lots.
Please consider signing the petition to protect Virginia Tech’s Stadium Woods:
https://sites.google.com/site/stadiumwoodsvt/
Photo: Cornell University 660 student residents and Redbud Woods supporters, Oct. 2004
