A tree dies in Cambridge

It took 110 years to go up but it came down in a day, 10 tons of hardwood and leaves yanked to earth by a team of workers and their chainsaws. The death sentence had been issued by Cambridge's top tree expert, who feared the 75-foot white ash, old and deeply damaged, might collapse on the densely packed neighborhood.

But some of the neighbors saw the tree's Oct. 11 felling as something else: arborcide. They erected a shrine on the foot-high stump, reminiscent of memorials to human lives on meaner streets. They convinced the City Council to order an autopsy of the ash's roots, still curling beneath the asphalt street, to determine whether the tree was cut in vain.

As Kerry Corner mourns its lost tree, similar scenes of bereavement play out across other neighborhoods. Store windows in Jamaica Plain hold tombstones for demolished neighborhood trees, and local activists are hoping to change Boston ordinances to offer greater protection for trees. They are inspired by San Francisco's decision this year to allow trees, including those on private property, to be designated and protected as landmarks.

In Cambridge, the streetscape seems much more empty now that the giant ash is gone, said Rod McDonald , who lives across Grant Street from the stump and watches befuddled squirrels search for the ash.

" There's a big hole in the street, in the skyline," he said.

Much of the neighbors' antipathy is directed at Harvard University, which asked the city's permission to cut down the tree . The ash grew from the sidewalk in front of land where the university is building dorms, and some neighbors think Harvard wanted the tree out of the way. It was Harvard's carelessness , some argue, that fatally damaged its roots.

Kelly Writer , the city's arborist, studied the tree and concluded that although it looked healthy, its supporting roots had been gravely injured by vehicles. But he could not tell who had mutilated the tree, nor does he expect the autopsy to allocate blame.

"There were multiple things that had happened to that root system over a period of time," he said. "I couldn't rightfully come out and point a finger at a person. . . . That could have been a delivery truck, or somebody that was coming onto the site before it was developed."

A spokesman for Harvard said school officials had originally hoped to keep the tree, before the pervasiveness of the root decay was discovered. The school's construction was not responsible for the demise of the ash, said Thomas Lucey , the school's director of community relations , who said it was already beginning to show root damage in 2004.

"Decay had been active in that tree for many, many years," he said. "We were just in the street in August of '06. What made that tree a public safety hazard was there a long time before we got into the street."

Across the river in Boston, anyone who wants to cut down a healthy tree on public property must appeal to the city's tree warden at a public hearing. If the warden agrees the tree can be removed, the property owner must pay a special Parks and Recreation fund $250 for each inch of the tree's diameter.

On Commonwealth Avenue earlier this year, a firestorm erupted when a property owner drastically trimmed back one of the street's famous magnolias. The owner eventually pledged to work with an arborist to try to restore the tree . "It was all but destroyed," said China Altman , leader of the Rose Brigade of the Friends of the Public Garden . "It'll be a remnant of itself."

The battles over urban trees are intensifying . Three years ago, the group American Forests released a study of satellite images -- Boston not included -- that suggested the country's urban areas have 21 percent less tree canopy than they did a decade earlier . Trees like Cambridge's white ash must fight for space with congested roads, busy sidewalks, and burgeoning buildings.

But tree crusaders argue that trees, living memorials that clean the air, are worthy of protection. Lauren Ockene is one of many Jamaica Plain residents who mourned the removal of a large chestnut tree, at the top of Paul Gore Street , that was cut down earlier this year by a developer.

"Each one of these battles indicates to me that this is a really important issue for the quality of life of people," she said. "It just points to the need for legal protection for trees. It isn't something that benefits just the person on whose property it is."

In Cambridge, the ash tree, whose leaf canopy stretched as wide as its height, looked healthy to the untrained eye. But when Writer began examining it last year, he found some trouble with its roots.

At a public hearing on the ash's fate early last month, 15 neighbors signed a petition to save the tree, which they described as a testament to the "durable qualities of patience and purpose, hope and expectation" in pleading their case.

"Vibrant and venerable, this ancient ash tree is a more time-tested citizen of Cambridge than any one of us today," they wrote. ". . . And yet, it falls to us to speak for this sentinel subject. A tree can only stand and wait; we must speak up for its silent stature."

A few weeks later, as a handful of neighbors looked on, three aborists -- Writer, Harvard's tree expert, and one from Cambridge Landscaping -- stripped back the asphalt covering the tree's roots and studied the damage. Both Writer and the Cambridge Landscaping arborist concluded that the tree should come down. Four of the tree's six supporting roots were injured, Writer said, as well as portions of the tree's canopy.

Writer's evaluation also carefully noted the tree's pruning history (last done in 2004), its crown ("senescent," or elderly), and its foliage color (slightly chlorotic, or yellow).

On Oct. 11, as morning stretched into afternoon, the colossal tree came down in a shower of sawdust and leaves. The neighbors quickly petitioned the City Council to order the autopsy as well as a directive to save the tree's roots, along with the trunk already waiting in the city yard .

"A lot of people are quite sentimental about this tree, and they'd like to see if they can get an artisan to make some sort of sculpture out of it -- maybe a table, maybe a chair," said Kevin Whitfield , who lives on Putnam Avenue.

Some of the neighbors hope the post-mortem will show that Harvard construction vehicles damaged the tree. Its construction workers did not install a grate to protect the ash, they argue, as required by the city's tree ordinance.

And now some of the neighbors also want Harvard to create a park at Grant and Bank streets as a memorial to the tree and to acknowledge what they believe to be the university's role in its demise.

But Lucey , the Harvard spokesman, said school officials did not intend to add a park at the corner, since they already have plans to rebuild a house there that was destroyed last year by fire. As part of the construction project, he said, school officials had already agreed to provide other areas of green space in the neighborhood.

Still, Carol Bankerd , who lives across the street from the stump, remains hopeful. "The community is in despair over losing this last great historic tree in our neighborhood," she said . "We hope that Harvard will do the right thing because they can, if they want to."

Kathleen Burge can be reached at kburge@globe.com