Mrs. Myers' Blue Spruce

By Hugh Sidey

The Presidency

God, Government, motherhood and free enterprise have given the nation a Christmas tree with such sublime harmony it is a true wonder to behold. The tree was ordered out of a seed catalogue by a son-in-law. As an infant it was tenderly watered by four grandchildren. At age six the blue spruce (Picea pungens) was a Mother's Day gift to Mrs. William E. Myers of York, Pa. Transplanted to her front yard, it was smothered with loving neglect for 15 years. No fertilizer. No watering. No insecticide. No pruning.

Through her front window Mrs. Myers gave the tree fond glances and occasional nice thoughts. The spruce defied wind, rain, ice, insects, disease. It was 30 ft. tall when it happened to catch the eye of some Park Service men who were roaming round the country in search of a "living" Christmas tree to replace the one that was blown over last winter. (Yet another tree died the year before from Washington's heat.) For $1,500 and a place in history, the Myers blue spruce was sent to serve its country, but not without a parting ritual that might have been prescribed in Norman Rockwell's last will and testament.

Bill Ruback of the National Park Service took his best men to join forces with a crew from the Davey Tree Expert Co., low bidders (about $9,000) on the 120-mile moving job. They arrived with backhoe, crane, tractor trailer, chain, wire and a burlap tarp made in Baltimore just for this tree. They were met with 90 qts. of Mrs. Myers' homemade soup, dozens of sandwiches, gallons of coffee and enough neighborly warmth to discourage winter.

Each branch of the spruce was tied to the trunk. The 11-ft. ball was shaped by hand, contained with burlap, hog wire, a rope girdle and an oaken tub. Mrs. Myers insisted that the work crew, neighbors and reporters stay for lunch. For three days they worked and ate. There were vegetable soup and chicken corn soup, hot dogs and chocolate cake, green salad, and pears and peaches canned by Mrs. Myers. The neighbors came out every day to watch as their old friend the spruce was gussied up to go to the city.

When the moment came to slip on the special burlap tarp, Mrs. Myers went up and put her hand on the tree and cried. An undertaker from their hamlet of Shiloh had asked Mr. Myers if he wanted to have a little service for the tree, but Mr. Myers declared firmly, "No, this is one you are not going to get."

With the tree packed and on its trailer, the 90 qts. of soup consumed, the four great-grandchildren excused from school, the moment came to say goodbye. There was so much hugging and kissing that it looked like a family reunion breaking up. And that was sort of what it was. Mrs. Myers prayed for her tree and a safe journey.

The tree caravan rolled easily down Interstate 83, around Baltimore on 695; and when the four vehicles reached Washington, there were motorcycle police waiting to escort everybody down Constitution Avenue and over to the Ellipse, where the tree was planted just across the street from the White House. Bill Ruback flashed the word to his office to call Mrs. Myers and tell her the spruce was in place. She cried again when the phone call came. Out her front window she could see the empty spot covered with fresh sod. "It looks," she said later, "like a new patch on an old pair of trousers."

Mrs. Myers' spruce now has 1,500 small gold lights, a gold garland, red star ornaments, gold balls and a star on top (placed by Amy Carter) that has a torch modeled after the one held by the Statue of Liberty. This Thursday (Dec. 14) Jimmy Carter plans to throw the switch and let the lights shine forth. He will surely say something about good will toward men as he gazes at the tree. He could take his text from Mrs. Myers, Bill Ruback and his men, the crew from Davey's and that tiny corner of York that gave us our national Christmas tree.

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