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What He Sees in the Trees

Even at Dartmouth, it's not easy being green. People can enjoy or avoid the long winter with a grin, but trees and shrubs simply have to bear it. And the cold is just one of a host of indignities visited upon the plant kingdom—trees, in particular—in these parts. Others include errant construction equipment; ravenous or disease-bearing insects; pedestrian-compacted soil; intermittent heavy doses of road salt; and doses of something else entirely, courtesy of four-legged creatures in search of relief. All take a toll.

And yet, as the all-too-brief summer reaches its peak in Hanover, the trees and shrubs—the sinews that bind Dartmouth's architecturally eclectic campus—look fantastic. For that, thank College arborist David J. DiBenedetto and a half dozen of his colleagues in Facilities Operations and Maintenance (FO&M) who manage "woody plant material."

DiBenedetto, a fifty-three-year-old New York native, was the division manager of a large private tree care company in Westchester County, New York, before coming to Dartmouth thirteen years ago. A graduate of the State University of New York at Delhi, he studied forestry—which typically involves growing trees for harvest—at Colorado State University. There, he became interested in urban forestry, which is focused on maintaining a variety of trees in often challenging settings. DiBenedetto is a member of the New England Chapter of the International Society of Arborists (ISA). Its members include other college arborists as well as those in the private sector, along with contractors, consultants, and educators. "A good mix," he notes.

The same could be said of the seventy-seven species of trees on campus—from arborvitae to zelkova—he's responsible for. A typical day for DiBenedetto depends on the season. "This time of year I do walk-arounds twice a week to look for Dutch Elm disease and to evaluate trees and landscaping needs in general. I'll walk around and see if there's something that needs to be weeded or pruned or something that's dying." Seems simple, but a short stroll with the arborist reveals a sharp eye for the landscape that's paid off handsomely for the College figuratively and literally: DiBenedetto and his colleagues have a knack for rescuing and reusing trees and plants that would bring a smile to the lips of the most tight-pursed Yankee.

Here's some of what DiBenedetto sees on just a part of his daily walk-arounds, in this case a half-hour sweep from Collis to Parkhurst to Dartmouth Row to the East Wheelock Cluster and then to the Hopkins Center:

The Parkhurst Elm (front of Parkhurst Hall on Main Street)
Planted around 1870, this soaring American elm is a survivor. Most of the elms from that era, which by the turn of the century had transformed streets around the Green (and around the country) into natural Gothic cathedrals, were felled by Dutch elm disease beginning in the 1930s. "It's the only thing that kills them," DiBenedetto says admiringly of the trees, which handle the worst urban living can toss at them: salt, soil compaction, pollution, and so forth, with amazing grace. Of Dutch elm disease, he notes, "You're never ahead of it, it's almost like Russian roulette. We have it. Right now, we have a couple trees that we lost." But with judicious pruning—which invariably draws the interest of students, faculty, and staff when it involves the Parkhurst Elm—occasional infusions of disease-fighting chemicals, and the planting of disease-resistant varieties, the American elm is making a comeback here and elsewhere.

Zelkova (northeast corner of Wentworth Hall)
Like the elm, the zelkova has a long trunk and a crown that spreads as if from a vase. Indeed, many cities and towns planted this hearty species to replace their lost elms. The effect isn't quite the same, but it's a beautiful tree nonetheless. DiBenedetto recalled that when he came to campus, this particular zelkova, the lone tree on the lawn behind Dartmouth Row, was struggling. Soil compaction caused by pedestrians walking nearby kept the roots from growing out, so they "girdled"—the tree was strangling itself. Selective trimming, straightening of the roots, and loosening of the surrounding soil has helped the tree to thrive (as has an inch-thick lag bolt installed where the trunk meets the crown to keep the tree from splitting). Nearby, to keep pedestrians on the paths and to leaven the austere aesthetic that DiBenedetto notes has long informed campus landscaping, crews have created small gardens with rescued plant material. Considering how many months of the year white and grey predominate, they provide a welcome splash of color.

Yellowwoods (in front of Brace Commons, East Wheelock Cluster)
DiBenedetto says that, increasingly, Dartmouth staff have taken over "small- to medium-sized" landscape projects once handled by contractors. "We have to take care of it," he shrugs. "If we're not satisfied, we'll have to correct it. We might as well do it." The green oval in front of Brace benefited from some after-the-fact staff intervention. Formerly, it was a swath of lawn with a lone elm sapling in the middle and a large teak garden bench that tended to migrate wherever cluster residents wanted it on a particular day. When the elm, planted as a memorial, died, staff took over. Following a plan sketched by colleague Peter Vandenhengel, they anchored the bench on the south end of the oval, flanked it with a pair of rescued yellowwood trees, and used recycled slate to create a U-shaped path. Around that, they planted hostas, yellow day lilies, and purple catmint, then reoriented the memorial plaque to face the new garden. "We took an area that kids used to just cut across, that was nothing," the arborist says proudly. "With a dormitory this size, where does someone have to come out and meditate, or sit and read a book or talk to a friend? Here it is."

Maple (in front of Chi Rho Fraternity, Wheelock Street)
Occasionally, a tree will be too far gone to save. As with the zelkova near Wentworth, the sugar maple in front of Chi Rho, planted by the town of Hanover, is girdling itself in its compacted soil, and the scarcity of leaves in its crown suggests the end is near. In this case though, the tree is too old to prune and straighten its roots; the effort would likely finish it off. DiBenedetto and crew avoid planting maples and oaks on streets with power lines overhead: unlike elms, which overspread the lines (another attribute that makes them great street trees), maples and oaks often need to have their crowns pruned around the lines as they mature, creating an awkward shape.

Linden (in front of the Hopkins Center)
Not that the arborist is averse to pruning. A linden in front of the Hopkins Center had, over time, lost its shapely figure. Which isn't a bad thing when standing in a wood with other species. But the ordered, modern architecture of the Hop and its plaza cried out for symmetry, so DiBenedetto responded, carefully shaping the tree. In fact, as he prepares to head back to work, he notes that a further grooming is in the offing.

There's more on elms in June's Dartmouth Life, and for the definitive guide to Dartmouth's trees, read Forever Green: The Dartmouth College Campus—An Arboretum of Northern Trees (2000), written by Mollie K. Hughes, illustrated by Susan Berry, and published by the Class of 1950.