This article, which won a first-place feature writing award from the Maryland-Delaware-DC Press Association, was originally published in The Dundalk Eagle on Aug. 8, 2002.
A Man & A Tree
She hadn't stood under her own power for years. Her once-mighty trunk was buttressed by concrete and her majestic limbs were moored by miles and miles of cable.
But the death of the Wye Oak at the hands of a violent Eastern Shore windstorm June 6 was still a shock, still the unthinkable. She had always been there.
Tens of thousands of people across the country have mourned the death of the nation's champion white oak tree.
But perhaps no one mourns more than Dundalk High School graduate Stark McLaughlin, who as a Maryland State forester has been the tree's main caregiver for 28 years.
"When the phone call came in that the Wye Oak was down, we didn't immediately panic," McLaughlin said in late June. The tree routinely lost branches in bad storms, and foresters had grown accustomed to reports that the tree had been knocked down.
But this time, his worst fear was confirmed.
McLaughlin jumped in his car to go see for himself, confident that his longtime friend would still be standing, as she had for 460 years.
"Right off Route 50 near the 404 light, there's a spot I know to glance, over the tops of some silos, where I can see the tree," he said. "I looked over, and she wasn't there."
The forester and his colleagues were able to keep their emotions in check in the immediate aftermath because of the potential danger of the situation.
"We had a massive tree laying across the highway," he said. "We had immediate safety issues to deal with."
"We had to assess conditions, call in resources and people, create a containment line, fence in the area and determine if we could work safely in the tree to begin removing it," he said.
Most folks assume the tree fell down and just needed to be cut up and carted away, McLaughlin said.
And he would have loved for it to be that simple. But the 96-foot tree was mammoth; of proportions hard to visualize. Large pieces lay atop other large pieces, often precariously. He had to make sure pieces wouldn't settle or fall while workers were inside the crown.
Cable that had been holding up the Wye Oak's branches was attached to huge eye bolts sunk deep within the tree. Workers examined the tree and marked all metal with orange spray paint to prevent serious injuries to those wielding chainsaws.
Besides clearing the highway quickly and safely, the team realized it had to preserve as much of the tree as possible.
Even in a pouring rain, people came out in droves to pay their respects to the Talbot County icon as word of her demise traveled.
To discourage souvenir hunters from venturing too closely, foresters handed out leaves and twigs they kept in buckets.
McLaughlin shared the story of a Native American man who drove to the site because "he just wanted to be able to touch the tree."
"I took him into the crown, and he just put his hands on it," McLaughlin said. "He knelt and said a small chant.
"He just understood," McLaughlin said before tears stopped him from finishing his sentence. He swallowed hard and continued: "He understood that a great thing had died, a spiritual thing had died."
The Wye Oak tree has been in state care since 1939, when it was purchased from a private owner.
At one time the tree was 121 feet high. It underwent a big makeover in 1985-86, according to McLaughlin. Many of its branches were recabled, and the crown was reduced by about 20 feet "in an attempt to preserve the integrity of the tree - to prolong its life," he said.
"We always knew she wouldn't last forever."
Much of the wood was temporarily stored in a warehouse on Kent Island, where conditions are far from favorable because of extreme temperatures and humidity, said McLaughlin.
On July 11, some of the usable wood was sawed and turned into boards by the Johnson Logging Co. in Talbot County.
While the tree was huge, only 14 pieces could be salvaged for lumber.
Meanwhile, the Wye Oak Advisory Committee, of which McLaughlin is a member, has been meeting to discuss ways of using the tree's wood. Folks were encouraged to submit ideas, which they did with great gusto.
Ideas ranged from building homes for the homeless to keychains and baseball bats, McLaughlin said.
Artists from across the world have contacted the committee with ideas for sculptures, which amazed the forester.
"We even heard from folks in Great Britain who heard about the tree dying," he said. "They are going to send a seedling from their St. John oak, which is a grand tree there."
A lot of people are still driving by to look at the stump, which McLaughlin feels will last for quite a while.
The Wye Oak shaded more than half an acre in life. In death, it will serve as an unprecedented educational tool for foresters and for students from pre-kindergarten through college.
Her wood may well be turned into ceremonial gavels and crab mallets, and her leaves might become pieces of jewelry.
But she will remain in the memories of thousands for years to come. And her seedlings are planted across the country, including at Wye Oak State Park, where a new tree was planted in 1986 behind what is now just a memorial stump.
And even at the end, the Wye Oak was considerate.
"She fell like a lady," McLaughlin said. "She didn't hurt anyone. It was a rainy, windy night and no one was around.
"And no one has gotten hurt handling the wood, which is just amazing. It was definitely a dramatic outgoing."
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