Too Late for Toomer's Trees

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Too late for

trees?

Winter 2007

www. aualum .org

After more than a century standing sentinel at the corner of College and Magnolia, the Toomer’s Pffffffttt. Swish. Thump. Oaks are entering their twilight years.

Is the party over?

A

A small cardboard cylinder arcs gracefully

through the night air, its white streamer

unfurling as it lands with a soft thud in the branches of a massive oak tree.

More cylinders fly upward, creating an

alabaster blanket made all the more dazzling by its lowly

chief ingredient: toilet paper. The subtle sounds made as rolls of Charmin fly gracefully through the air are

drowned by thousands of voices, jubilant, celebrating.

Shouts of “War Eagle” fill the chill autumn night, the

street lights adding a misty glow as ribbons of tissue swirl in a light breeze off the oak branches—an oddly festive

Medusa, pale tentacles dancing on the winds of victory.

It’s Saturday night at Toomer’s Corner, and fans

of the Auburn Tigers are celebrating.

by Suzanne Johnson/photography by Jeff Etheridge

Being the center of attention is nothing new for the twin oaks that grace Auburn University’s stately campus entry at Magnolia Avenue and College Street. But the headlines they’ve attracted over the long, hot summer of 2007 have been less than celebratory.

“Toomer’s Corner oaks in poor health,” proclaimed the Aug. 12 Birmingham News, while the Montgomery Advertiser read, “Auburn works to preserve aging oak trees.”

The Auburn Plainsman stated it more bluntly: “Landmark Toomer’s trees dying.”

Though they anchor one of Auburn’s most beloved victory rituals—the university is said to be the only institution in the country with toilet paper removal as a line item in its budget—the rolling of Toomer’s Oaks could be in jeopardy, because the trees themselves are in jeopardy.

Is the party about to end?

By all rights, the Toomer’s Oaks should never have been here. The live oak, Quercus Virginiana, is actually a coastal species.

Planted in the sandy native soils of Mobile or New Orleans, the trees typically reach monstrous proportions and can live for centuries, impervious to subtropical heat, termites, hurricanes and the most intrusive pest of all—humans.

By contrast, the Toomer’s Oaks are mere teenagers at about 130 years old, estimates plant pathologist Scott Enebak, a “tree doctor” in the AU School of Forestry and Wildlife Sciences who inspects the trees monthly.

He isn’t the only one keeping watch. The trees get a steady stream of regular visitors, including longtime AU facilities director Charlie Crawford, who for the past decade has inspected the oaks at least weekly, looking for dead limbs, shrinking crown, sparse foliage or discoloration. All are signs of a tree in trouble.

But it’s Enebak who has been the chief tree spokesman during the news-heavy summer. A Minnesota native drawn to forestry when an early aptitude test recommended he become a forest ranger, Enebak can tick off with scientific precision the reasons the Toomer’s Oaks are nearing the end of their lifespan:

Location. Live oaks grow naturally only along the Southern coast. “The Toomer’s Oaks were definitely planted,” Enebak says. Not old enough to have been sown by original Creek landowner Sundilla, the trees were likely planted about 1880, possibly by Auburn city founder Judge John Harper. No one knows the trees’ origin for sure—that piece of Auburn history is subject to conjecture. But since this is not their native habitat, the oaks have worked hard to adapt, Enebak says.

Footprint. Over the years, construction has robbed the trees of space. John C. Mouton, senior adviser to the president and the John E. Wilborn Chair in Building Science, says the root systems are bound up due to construction.

Widened streets and sidewalk repairs have restricted root development and water sources.

Pollution/traffic. Toomer’s Corner is a busy intersection, and the trees absorb automobile exhaust. Cars occasionally careen into the oaks, adding insult to injury. A few years ago, Enebak and Crawford puzzled over how to help the College Street tree when a car smashed into it, knocking out a sizable chunk of wood. “We finally decided just to leave it alone and let it heal, and it is healing nicely,” Enebak says.

Nature. Like much of the Southeast, Auburn has experienced several years of severe drought, which raises soil temperatures and puts further stress on ailing trees. Lack of rain has presented one of the greatest threats to the trees’ health, officials say.

Rolling. And here’s the rub: The pressurewashing process made necessary by the beloved tradition of “Rolling Toomer’s Corner” also causes the trees stress, Enebak says.

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Toomer’s Drugstore, which boasted the only wireless in the area.

Exactly how the rolling of Toomer’s Corner got started is another bit of history left to the whims of human memory.

But most agree that “Rolling Toomer’s” originally had nothing to do with the oaks.

McAdory Lipscomb, who operated Toomer’s Drugstore for more than 30 years, estimates that while the corner has been a popular gathering place for generations, the initial rolling of the corner occurred around 1962. At first, only the arms extending from the light poles were rolled—not the trees— and only for away-game victories.

Mary Lee Erhart ’78 confirms that recollection. “Back in the mid-’70s when I was a student at Auburn, we typically only rolled Toomer’s Corner for away-game wins,” says the Shelby resident. “Students would sit around the radio listening to the football game. As soon as we were assured a win, we would head to Toomer’s Corner for the traditional rolling.”

Legend also has it that “Rolling Toomer’s” began as early as the 1940s, when away-game victories were announced via toilet paper after news had come in to

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Others date at least an occasional tree-roll during that time as well. Gerald A. Stephens ’52 of Birmingham recalls joining students at Pop Raines’ Beverage Shack after a football game and then raiding engineering buildings for toilet paper to decorate the trees along Magnolia Avenue. “We could not believe the amount of toilet paper hanging from the trees the next morning,” he says.

Rolling the intersection itself could be hazardous. “The original rolling of Toomer’s Corner was a high-risk adventure,” recalls John T. Folmar ’87 of Auburn.

“Unsuspecting U.S. 29 (College Street) traffic was very much part of the spectacle.”

Nothing matched the exhilaration of painting slogans—usually aimed at Alabama— on the side of passing New York-bound Greyhounds, he adds.

Lee M. Ozley ’61 of Hilton Head Island, S.C., also recalls making unsuspecting motorists part of the celebration and dates the rolling of the corner earlier. “In 1957, when I was a freshman, Auburn was ranked No. 1 in the nation. I believe every student at Auburn ‘rolled the corner’ for hours. Students stopped every car that came through town that night and made the driver and passengers get out of their cars and shout ‘Warrrrr Eagle!’”

“It wasn’t until the ‘First Time Ever’ that the masses poured into the intersection of College Street and Magnolia Avenue,” Folmar remembers. “As the crowds expanded, the trees came into play.”

And play they have, ever since. No one can really say whether the ’89 Iron Bowl actually represented the permanent move from rolling the intersection to rolling the trees, but it does make a good story.

It could have been a change in the traffic lights, a deliberate move to improve safety, or just natural migration. Whatever the reason, the year 1989 might have marked the fans’ move from rolling the intersection traffic lights after winning away games to rolling the oaks after every victory. If you like, you can blame it on ’Bama.

For most of the 20th century, college football’s fiercest rivalry had taken place on the supposedly “neutral” ground of Birmingham’s Legion Field. But on Dec. 2, 1989, the series finally came to Auburn.

When the Tigers secured their 30-20 victory, the celebration at Toomer’s Corner couldn’t be contained, some alumni say.

The paper chase With all that paper comes the inevitable cleanup, and it is TP removal that puts even more pressure—literally—on Toomer’s Oaks.

For years, the post-celebration purge consisted of facilities workers in cherry pickers, laboriously hand-picking and disposing of as many shreds of limp paper as they could reach.

Despite their best efforts, paper was always left hanging in the trees, turning dry and gray as time passed

or blowing down the streets. The steady accumulation of tissue was both unsightly and a fire hazard.

And fire was a problem. Sometime during the joyous revelry of “Rolling Toomer’s,” fans discovered fire—or at least the idea of setting the toilet paper alight—which became a brief, dangerous fad during the disco era.

Sharon Mohney ’78 of Covington, Va., remembers the Auburn fire chief announcing that anyone caught setting the paper on fire would be prosecuted.

Over the years, occasional flames have damaged the oaks, once turning the Magnolia Avenue tree into what Enebak describes as “a burning bush.”

In recent years, the university began using power washers to remove the toilet

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“That’s nothing I’d really propose,” he says with a laugh.

“Rolling the corner is a wonderful tradition.”

Meanwhile, AU administrators are looking at replacing the trees eventually. The original oaks’ removal will require heavy construction and a redesign of part of the historic corner; substitute trees will be placed farther away from the College Street/Magnolia Avenue intersection so their root systems will have room to grow.

paper, which is faster and more thorough than the manual method. Unfortunately, it also stresses out the trees.

“I’m surprised, given the powerwashing, that the oaks are still here,”

Enebak says. “It is really hard on the trees.”

While campus planners realize that power-washing bodes ill for the trees’ health, Mouton says, experts haven’t yet found a more effective and efficient alternative.

The next generation

On the one hand, you have a cherished university tradition that no one wants to abandon. On the other hand, you have the impending demise of two Auburn landmarks.

What’s a university to do?

Enebak’s ironic solution—“I said, tongue-in-cheek, that Auburn could go 0-14 in football”—isn’t really an option.

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When that might happen is hard to predict. “The tree on College is bigger and is in better shape,” Enebak says. “The one on Magnolia is certainly not as healthy. They may die in five years, or they could last another hundred years. You don’t want to give them a death sentence and say their demise is imminent. You just can’t predict it.”

If the trees were to die sooner—in five years, for example—it would be possible to replace them with other adult trees, perhaps a native species.

But the better solution—and the university’s greatest hope, Enebak says— is that the offspring of the original Toomer’s Oaks can eventually replace their parents.

The idea was born around 2002 with the launch of the Toomer’s Oak Project.

With faculty and administrative guidance, three student clubs in the School of Forestry and Wildlife Sciences began selling seedlings grown from Toomer’s Oaks acorns to raise money for club activities and with an eye toward raising a new generation of trees to replace the aging Toomer’s Oaks.

Read more Toomer’s Corner memories and submit your own at: www.aualum.org/toomers Each fall, Forestry Club students collect acorns directly from the trees, then sow them in November and nurture them in a greenhouse. The numbered and dated Toomer’s Oaks offspring are sold—along with a roll of toilet paper—to alumni and others who want a piece of Auburn history for their own yards.

About two dozen seedlings from the program’s first year are being carefully tended for campus use. “The idea is to have these children get big, and when the original Toomer’s Oaks die, we can dig up these progeny to replace them,” says Enebak (pictured right). “These are the original Toomer’s Oak children.”

If the aging oaks last another decade or more, which Enebak says is possible, then the babies will be big enough to replant at the edge of Auburn’s most famous intersection—keeping the canopy of green alive for new generations of AU sports fans.

Former Auburn Magazine editorial assistant Riley Tant ’08 contributed to this story.

Can’t travel to Auburn? Roll your own live oak at home.

Proceeds from the sale of Toomer’s seedlings benefit student scholarships in Auburn’s School of Forestry and Wildlife Sciences. https://fp.auburn.edu/sfws/oaks/

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