Ode to a witness tree

When natural and human history meet, it is fitting to pause and remember. Due to disease and structural instability, a tree that earned its own page of history as a State Champion American beech met its demise in recent days. Its notoriety had much to do with where it took root 200 years ago. It grew stately and unmolested, except for carved graffiti, on property dedicated to religion and education for 185 years ago as St. Vincent's College.

Landscapes and cityscapes turn a historian's mind to wonder -- "What happened here?" In the tree's last season, it is appropriate to contemplate centuries of natural and human history witnessed under its branches.

Early board minutes in the history of Cape Girardeau's St. Vincent's male academy, college, and seminary, indicate the Vincentians enslaved Blacks to labor, supporting their school. In the 1850 Federal Census, Slave Schedule, Father Anthony Penco, the college principal priest, was enumerated as owner of 10 individuals: males (ages 75, 60, 40, 12, 10, and 9) and females (60, 38, 18, and 9). The list included no names or familial relationships, but other resources bring to light personal stories of a few.

Records of St. Vincent parish church registered the 1848 marriage of Juliana (enslaved by the College) to Hamlet (enslaved by "the Dowty Family"). Did the newly-weds shiver beneath the tree as they walked from the church on their December wedding day?

The regular enumeration of 1850 named two Black women, among a list of priests and students -- Betsy (age 40) and Matilda (46), both Black, by first names only, but were possibly free. Did the women seek the tree's shade in brief moments of leisure?

In November 1850, a tornado leveled college buildings. Amid the "heap of ruins" described in the Western Eagle was a toppled cabin in which was found "an old negro man," crushed to death. His name was unmentioned. Reconstruction of the college and farm fell heavily on enslaved laborers. The tree survived the storm.

Records of the circuit court, November 1857, indicate Caroline (17) was emancipated by the College -- the year after Penco left his duties as Provincial. As the autumn leaves fell, did she dance in her freedom?

Jane Renfro died in 1928, at the age of 90. Newspapers noted she was born (circa 1838), at the Catholic college, presumably to an unnamed enslaved mother. After emancipation, Renfro "was placed in a Catholic family" -- with the Burns [Byrnes] and then, with the C. G. Juden's family, a Briarwood house servant until her death. Was the beech tree Jane's childhood playground?

After slavery, George and Nettie Williams, worked for wages and housing, in the tradition of Black cooks feeding the college priests and faculty. One fateful day, in 1921, George's clothing caught fire. Burns and deteriorating health contributed to his death, at age 47. Nettie was left to raise her 4 children alone.

Another couple, A.W. and Lucy Gatlin, worked as farmer and cook at the college. On a tragic early morning in June 1923, as their parents worked, their two young daughters, Rose and Fannie May were trapped in the upper room of their quarters by a fire that took their young lives.

Under the legendary beech's canopy, who uttered prayers, unburdened tears of grief and loss, or blew off hot frustration? Who used the tree's broad girth to momentarily separate themselves, physically and mentally, from the onus of the day? Who found hope for better days as sunrise glowed in tree's crown?