January 10, 2002

Plains Folk: Arbor Lodge

Tom Isern, Professor of History
North Dakota State University

Tree-planting on the prairies is no new subject to me. As a boy I walked Osage orange shelterbelts of the southern plains for pheasants and rabbits and picked shelterbelt plums for jelly. Later in life I did scholarly investigations of the history of tree-planting in the Canadian prairies. Living in North Dakota, I came to understand the psychological importance of sheltering trees, especially for people accustomed to a forested environment, although I myself am comfortable in a perfect prairie.

If you think you know about trees and people on the prairies, then make a visit to Arbor Lodge, in Nebraska City, Neb., and see if you don’t come away as perplexed as I did. Arbor Lodge was the home of Caroline and Sterling Morton. Morton served as U.S. Secretary of Agriculture under President Grover Cleveland, but is better remembered as the founder of Arbor Day. He got it started via the Nebraska State Board of Agriculture in 1872, from which the idea spread nationally.

The Arbor Lodge residence is quite interesting for its, you might say, geology. It has layers of architecture. It was the farmhouse of the Morton homestead; then it was enlarged and refurbished into a Victorian mansion; and finally in 1903 the heir, Joy Morton (the Morton Salt guy), brought in an architect from Chicago and made over the place in Neo-Classical style. All around the estate, too, are the evidences of the Mortons’ preoccupation with trees–more than 200 species in their grand arboretum.

This made for an idyllic visit, but the trouble was, I got to thinking as I wandered about. It started with this painting on the landing in the house, done in 1897 by an artist named Haskell Coffin. The grand canvas depicts the Mortons and other commissioners making a treaty with the Pawnee in 1857. It struck me as weird, with the commissioners upright off to the left under a tree, and across the canvas these Pawnee dancers cavorting about. Then I realized, it’s all about sex. The commissioners are virile, Caroline matronly. The Pawnee–unlike any other depictions I can recall of Plains Indians–appear as androgynous sprites. Clearly, the artist is saying, these fops cannot husband the land, and it should be turned over to better keepers.

Then I strolled down to the Sterling Morton monument, dedicated in 1905 by former President Cleveland, himself known for certain personal indiscretions, I later recalled in irony. Here stands Morton tall in bronze, backed by magnificent larches. His eyes appear, on first notice, to seek the horizon, but if you look at the eyes themselves, rather than the position of his head, it is possible to be convinced (I certainly was) that Morton is gazing not up into the distance but rather down at another statue, a bronze of the goddess Daphne.

Even a statesmanlike statue would have a hard time averting his eyes from this Daphne, whose curvy form and off-the-shoulder gown invite a lingering gaze. She holds a cutting ready for planting. Notice, too, the brass reliefs set in the bench-wall around the Morton statue. One is a reproduction of the Coffin painting, and the other, in contrast, is another image of a tree-planting Daphne, situated in a fertile landscape, and posed in such as way that I blush to describe, and must not in this family-oriented forum.

What were these guys thinking, anyway–the artists who made these works, and the old politicians who dedicated them? Tree-planting on the plains is a heck of a lot more interesting than I thought.

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Source: Tom Isern, (701) 799-2941, tom@plainsfolk.com 
Editor: Gary Moran, (701) 231-7865, gmoran@ndsuext.nodak.edu 

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