The ecology of urban ecosystems profoundly influences the plants and animals that live in and near cities, and even changes how birds sing – to read more about this, see here:
To read about how a neighborhood in Philadelphia went from hills, valleys and creeks to streets, houses and underground conduits, see here:
Hunting Park, which is worth a visit, is a wide open area of green comprising about 87 acres in North Philadelphia, and while it has certainly changed through the years, it has always been filled with plants. Originally part of the James Logan estate (that included nearby Stenton), this particular parcel was sold in the early part of the 19th century and soon thereafter there was a racetrack here that was active and running up until the mid-1850s, when the land came to the city to be used as a park, and by 1937 Hunting Park had a “music pavilion, tennis courts, a lake, and a carrousel“.
In 1872, the park came under the Fairmount Park Commission, and it stayed there until 2009, when the combination of the Fairmount Park System with the Department of Recreation made what is now Philadelphia Parks and Recreation, a department in the city that manages thousands of acres of natural lands, playgrounds, and much, much more, including Hunting Park.
The lake there (mentioned above) was a wading lake, a lot of it less than knee deep, depending on the depth of your knees, and pretty much all of it below the waist, given that it was a “wading” lake, and it was huge – as can be seen in the aerial photo here, the lake stretched about a block and half’s length north to south, and about the same, roughly, from east to west, forming somewhat of a boomerang shape, pointing towards the west, with a smaller pool, perhaps for smaller children, at the northern tip of it. You can further get a sense of its size by the aerial photo here, from 1939. Also note from the 1843 map here that the site where Hunting Park is now didn’t have much in the way of streams or creeks running through it, which says that the lake most likely wasn’t a dammed waterway, but was more likely simply a large expanse dug down until groundwater was hit and that then filled the pond. The pavilion at the crook of the boomerang’s elbow, on its east side, is still there, but the lake is not.
There is a magnificent tupelo (Nyssa sylvatica) just to the west of where the lake once was, and across the way from where that pavilion still stands:
Given its size, this tree was mostly likely there when the lake was – shading bathers from the summer sun, and providing brilliant red foliage in the autumn to give a vivid signal of the end of the swimming season.
Now there are playing fields there, where the lake once was, and a swimming pool, too, at the lake’s historic center, and on a warm summer day those fields will be filled with people, playing soccer, playing baseball, and watching others do the same, and just enjoying being out of doors. At the southern part of this area, next to the baseball field, is an old cedrela, or toon tree. It’s roughly the same size as ones growing along West Vernon Rd in Germantown, along the former border of where Meehan’s Nursery used to be, and the one in Hunting Park may well have come from Meehan’s, as they were a major tree supplier in Philadelphia, and also they sold Cedrela trees from 1896 onwards and through to the 1910s, as a look at their catalogs (many of which are in the PHS McLean library) shows; and they were pretty excited about this tree in 1905, writing that it is “Such a good plant that we intend to make a great feature of it as soon as we can grow a stock large enough to meet the demand its merit will create.”
In the 19th century, William Saunders, partner of Thomas Meehan (proprietor of the eponymous nursery, mentioned above), laid out a design for Hunting Park, and there are trees there still that look, from their size, to be from that time, and therefore perhaps from his design. There’s a huge sugar maple, for example, just to the east of the community garden, in the western part of the park, and oaks, including scarlet, red, and white, in the southern section of the park, all of which look to date from the late 19th century based on their heights and widths.
And there is even a tree that pretty clearly pre-dates the park itself – a willow oak that’s pretty hard to miss, given the sign pointing right at it:
This sign, similar to the one pointing towards the Buist Sophora in Southwest Philadelphia, points to this Quercus phellos:
It’s enormous, as you can tell from the apparently tiny people who are at the base that are, I can tell you, all over 5 feet tall, and some a fair bit more than that. Based on its size, we can pretty confidently say that it dates to the mid, if not early, 19th century, if not before, and it has accompanied the historic building (at the very southwest corner of the park) through the centuries, and through to today.
Across Roosevelt Blvd from the park is the Logan Triangle, a site where houses once were. This development was built in the 1920s, on top of what was once the Wingohocking Creek (or see here) but has now all been filled in and covered over. However, it wasn’t filled in sturdily enough, not strongly enough to hold the houses built above it, and in the 1980s houses tragically exploded, and the city, along with the Logan Assistance Corporation and the federal government, worked towards relocating the nearly thousand households impacted by this and removing most of the buildings that were there, and about 16 blocks there are now open green space – some butterflies fly there (e.g, sulphurs, that we saw on the 25th of August 2013), and there are open fields that look like rural fields, and also a bit of short dumping where people have left their trash for others to clean up after them, and the area today forms a curious counter image of green space to the park, Hunting Park, on the south side of the Boulevard. (These kinds of problems have also occurred elsewhere in Philadelphia: in Wissinoming, Mill Creek (in West Philadelphia), and Roxborough and Wynnefield)
From J. Thomas Scharf and Thompson Westcott’s History of Philadelphia, 1609-1884:
“The Wingohocking (Winge-hacking) is thought to mean “a good place for planting.” This stream is also called “Logan’s Run,” because it flows by Stenton, the country seat of of James Logan, Penn’s secretary; it rises near Mount Airy, and the Tacony in Montgomery County.”
As a side note – upstream from here, as the Wingohocking flows (underground, today), is where Charles Willson Peale‘s house once was (it is now part of LaSalle‘s campus), and there was beryl, a gemstone, there, too: “This mineral is found on Mr. C. Peale’s farm near Germantown” (Isaac Lea, “An Account of the Minerals at present known to exist in the vicinity of Philadelphia”, Vol. 1, Journal of the Academy of Natural Sciences of Philadelphia, December of 1818) [and for more about some plants that grew along the headwaters of the Wingohocking in the 1920s, see within here: https://growinghistory.wordpress.com/2012/04/22/paulownia-tomentosa-the-empress-tree/]
If you walk over to Logan Triangle from Hunting Park, and you decide to go via Old York Road, perhaps to walk over the ground where the Excelsior Brick Works was (as can be seen in the 1895 map here), take a look just a little bit to the east, just south of the Boulevard, and you’ll see the apple tree that Joe Rucker discovered there recently, and if you’re there in late summer or early fall, you can eat the apples off of it, too (just be careful of the poison ivy growing on and near it)
To read about some other parks in Philadelphia, see here:
And for further reading about Hunting Park…
From Erica Maust, of the Woodlands Historic Mansion, Cemetery, and Landscape:
“In 1784, William Hamilton introduced the Lombardy poplar to North America on his Philadelphia estate, The Woodlands. In 1788, a visitor to The Woodlands wrote that Hamilton’s walks were “planted on each side with the most beautiful & curious flowers & shrubs. They are in some parts enclosed with the Lombardy poplar except here & there openings are left to give you a view of some fine trees or beautiful prospect beyond…”
Grove Street Cemetery in New Haven, Connecticut was the first private, non-profit cemetery in the world. Organized in 1796 as “the New Burying Ground in New Haven,” it was one of the earliest cemeteries to have a planned layout with privately owned family lots, named streets and avenues, and arrangements of ornamental plantings. The original 1796 planting scheme of the cemetery featured regular rows of–you guessed it!–Lombardy poplars (the very same tree Hamilton introduced to North America 12 years earlier), along with a poplar grove and meadow at the rear of the cemetery.
44 years later, in 1840, Hamilton’s very own landscaped Woodlands became a planned, rural cemetery, preserving his landscape and horticultural pursuits.”
For more, see here:
And for more about William Hamilton and the Lombardy poplar:
An Ohio State University entomologist, Mary Gardiner, is looking at arthropods in vacant lots to find out what they can tell us about the urban environment.
For more, see here:
In the 19th century, A. J. Drexel lived in a mansion at the southeast corner of 39th and Walnut, and as with any estate of the time, it had a garden and was landscaped (Alexander MacElwee worked there in the 1880s).
As the 20th century rolled in, the property was purchased by Samuel S. Fels, who “made his money in the manufacture of Fels Naptha, a popular household soap“, and the institute that now bears his surname is currently there, in the building that Fels had built in 1907.
Are there plants there now that date to when this site was an estate? Yes, there is a copper beech just to the east of the Fels Institute building, right near the street, on just the other side of the fence, that from its size looks to date to the late 19th century, and so would have been there when Drexel was, and when Fels was, and on to the current time.(note: copper beeches were often estate plantings in the mid to late 19th century and can outlast the estate itself, like the magnificent copper beech currently standing in Overington Park, in Frankford)
And if we go down the street a little bit, to the next door down, towards 38th Street, in front of the building that now houses the offices of the President of the University of Pennsylvania, the former Eisenlohr Hall, there is a large rose, that was blooming with yellow flowers this past week:
I’m not sure how old that rose plant is, but its girth seemed to indicate a substantial age –
And so I wondered if perhaps it might have been there when that block was occupied by Drexel and was landscaped by Alexander MacElwee, and/or if perhaps it dated to the time of Fels, when he was living here.
And so I looked at some old pictures –
The first building, on the left, in the foreground, is no longer there – but the second set back is; it’s directly to the east of the house with the yellow rose.
And if we look even closer, between the third and fourth trees back, on the left side of the street, we see the post behind which that yellow rose is currently growing. And if we then look even a bit closer, we see what looks to be a row of three shrubs, perpendicular to the street and running south, that look to have pretty dense foliage, unlike what this rose most likely would have looked like as a younger plant.
And so this rose most likely was not there in Drexel’s time.
If we look at another photo of this block, this time from the opposite direction (i.e., looking east), and from 1931, we see this:
The first house on the right is the house with the yellow rose, and we can see that it is quite densely landscaped in 1931 – and by 1970 at least the front part of that landscape was changed to a much more open aspect:
And so we see that there was extensive removal of shrubbery from the front of the building by that time (1970, that is). This suggests that what was there prior to the early 1930s (i.e., the time of Samuel Fels) was removed by 1970, and therefore would imply that this rose does not date to his time, either.
But we can’t see to the side where the rose is now, and so we don’t know for sure it was there or not, and so our question goes unanswered, as to whether this yellow rose was there in the time of Fels, based on old photographs.
But there is a quick work around to this question, one that answers it clearly and concisely: this rose cultivar wasn’t introduced until 1956, and so we know that it post dates the time of Drexel, and the time of Fels (who passed away in 1950).
And so, the yellow rose of West Philadelphia, while beautiful, is not ancient.
If you walk along the Wissahickon, you’ll see plenty of hemlocks (Tsuga canadensis) – these are evergreens, with flattened needle-like leaves that have a whitish striping on their undersides and cones that are about an inch high, and so are reasonably easy to differentiate from the other common conifer you’ll see up around there, the white pine.
Hemlocks along the Wissahickon can be a pretty good size, with trunks over a foot across and tops reaching dozens of feet towards the sky. But there used to be much larger hemlocks here.
In 1933, a book was published called “Penn’s Woods: 1682 – 1932″. It was written by Edward Embree Wildman, with the goal of documenting all the trees in the area that were alive at the time of William Penn’s arrival in 1682 and were still living at time of the 250th anniversary of that arrival – in 1932, that is.
And Wildman noted some very large hemlocks, growing along the Wissahickon –
“Before leaving the city we have four more Penn trees to record. One of these is the largest hemlock we have on record. These trees grow in our beautiful Wissahickon Valley, along the lower bridle path. A beech nine feet, four inches in girth stands on the Jenkins Estate, Far Country. A half mile below is the great hemlock, twelve feet, five inches in girth. It is about 100 yard south of the Walnut Lane Bridge near the stream. Two other hemlocks nearby measure more than nine feet at breast height.”
Wildman (1933), p. 57
I had never seen 4′ wide (note that Wildman measured the circumference, not the diameter) hemlocks in the Wissahickon before, but you never know, and so on the morning of the 4th of May (2013) I went up to the Walnut Lane bridge, paced off 100 yards on the western side of the creek, and didn’t see any hemlocks there; but the far side of the creek was so lushly green that I couldn’t really see into it that well, and so I wanted to go back and do the same thing on the eastern side – and I did that the following evening.
And, as I was walking there, with evening falling and along the interceptor sewer that’s right nearby the upper trail on the west side of the creek, as I got close to the Walnut Lane Bridge, I looked up at it (the bridge, that is), and it seemed about a hundred yards away, and I looked down to my left and saw a little grove in the crepuscular haze, and I wondered if that was where these enormous trees had been…
Well, in the interest of accuracy and/or precision, I went up to the bridge and paced off a hundred yards back downstream (from whence I came, that is), and I saw that I’d gotten it right and that the little grove down by the stream was about a hundred yards south of the bridge, and so that was quite likely where Wildman had seen that enormous hemlock … but I didn’t see any hemlocks down there, and most of the trees that I saw there looked to be less than 80 years old, based on their size, except for one large tulip poplar, which looked to be about a meter across, and so is probably ~100 years old, and therefore would’ve been there, as a youngster, when that tall hemlock was there, and it would’ve possibly grown right alongside it, occasionally in its shadow even, perhaps (though not much, of course, given that tulip poplars like light).
In 1996, there was a paper published in Bartonia, the Journal of the Philadelphia Botanical Club, written By Dr. John M. Fogg, Jr., that documented the flora of the Wissahickon Valley. It had the appropriate title, “Annotated checklist of the plants of the Wissahickon Valley” and in it he does, of course, mention hemlocks, calling them “One of the commonest and most handsomest trees of the valley.” And he goes on to say: “Often forming pure stands, especially on the west or north facing slopes, as at: Walnut Lane, Valley Green, south of Rex Avenue, above Covered Bridge.” (Fogg, 1996; Bartonia vol. 59)
Dr. Fogg did not mention the enormous hemlocks from Wildman’s book, however, he (Fogg, that is), didn’t mention much in the way of specific individual plants for other entries in this checklist, and so this doesn’t mean he didn’t see these ancient, enormous trees – and, he was botanizing the Wissahickon in the 1930s, and so I’m quite certain he would have seen them, in addition to the numerous other ones he would have frequently encountered in his visits to the Wissahickon.
Hemlocks have been common in the Wissahickon deep into Philadelphia’s history. In William P.C. Barton’s 1818 flora of Philadelphia (“Compendium Florae Philadelphicae”; v. 2; p. 182), he calls this plant “Pinus canadensis” with a common name of “Hemlock Spruce”, and describes it as “A very large and fine tree. The boards and scantling made from its trunk are called hemlock timber. On the Wissahickon ; abundant. On the Schuylkill, often met with.” Additionally, in Ida Keller and Stewardson Brown’s 1905 Handbook of the Flora of Philadelphia and Vicinity, the hemlock is listed as being in “Philadelphia – Wissahickon.”
And there are collections of hemlocks in the herbarium of the Academy of Natural Sciences (PH) that also attest to its long presence in the Wissahickon. On the label of one of these collections, collected by Henry A. Lang on the 9th of April 1924, the label indicates: “Wissahickon Ravine, common”‘, thereby indicating that much like today, there was quite a bit of hemlock there in the early 20th century. There are other collections of hemlocks at PH – from J. Bernard Brinton, M.D. (a founding member of the Philadelphia Botanical Club), collected on the 23d of June 1889 (this label simply indicates “Wissahickon”, with no further details given); and from Edgar T. Wherry (who was a botany professor at the University of Pennsylvania, among many other things), collected the 2d of August 1945, when he clipped a branch from a “Small tree on steep rocky hillside, Wissahickon Creek ravine near Thomas Mill Road”.
Additionally, in the 1901 catalog for the Andorra Nursery, which was located where the Wissahickon crosses from Montgomery County into Philadelphia, the hemlock is described as “One of our finest native Evergreens, especially beautiful along the Wissahickon Creek.” (this catalog is in the collections at the McLean Library at the Pennsylvania Horticultural Society; the Andorra Nursery was founded in 1886 and closed in 1961)
And even as far back as 1818, the hemlock was a landmark of the Wissahickon, as we see from this quote, from Thomas Nuttall’s Genera of North American Plants, on the habitat of Viola rotundifolia: “On the shady and rocky banks of Wishahikon creek, about 8 miles from Philadelphia, where it was also found by Mr. Rafinesque; always under the shade of Abies canadensis…” [Abies canadensis is an old name for Tsuga canadensis]
And William P. C. Barton, in his 1818 Compendium Florae Philadelphicae, notes of Viola rotundifolia: “This very rare species grows on the dark, shady, hilly borders of the Wissahickon creek, north side, not far from Germantown. It is found generally at the roots, and under the deep shade of Abies Canadensis [=Tsuga canadensis], so abundant on that secluded and romantic part of the creek.”
Hemlocks are one of the characteristic trees of the Wissahickon, and have been for quite some time – however, the populations we see now have a different aspect compared to the ones that would have been here in centuries past. While the smaller size classes that were here in former times we most certainly still see today, the larger ones, the oldest hemlocks in the wetter areas, the ones that would have reached the sizes of the nephilim that were here in Wildman’s time in the 1930s, are no longer here.
To read about some other Wissahickon valley conifers, see here: