Alumni Trees of Life: Book by PhD Alum Takes a Deep Dive into Evergreens Stories You May Like ‘Cosmos,’ a Pulitzer, and More: Fascinating Facts about Carl Sagan What’s Up with Pickleball? Meet the Alum Outfitting the Gymnasts of Team USA In the tradition of works like Salt, Cod, and Mauve, the Cornell prof charts how something seemingly mundane altered human history By Beth Saulnier In the early 1770s, American colonists furious over British meddling in their trade of a key agricultural product finally had enough, and rose up—in an act of rebellion that would ultimately spark a revolution. What was that historic event called again? The Boston Tea Party? In fact—as Prof. Trent Preszler, MS ’02, PhD ’12, points out in his new book, Evergreen—it was the Pine Tree Riot, a bit of rural law-breaking by some New Hampshire residents that would inspire their citified Massachusetts brethren a year later. And as it turns out, that’s just one of myriad ways in which evergreens have played a transformative role in human history. Preszler chronicles that impact in his nonfiction work—which follows in the tradition of bestsellers like Salt, Cod, and Mauve in exploring how something seemingly mundane has played a key role in society, the environment, and beyond. Prof. Trent Preszler, MS ’02, PhD ’12. "Preszler’s well-researched and often poignant account is strewn with intriguing trivia," says a Publishers Weekly review. "History and nature buffs alike will find much to enjoy." The book is subtitled The Trees That Shaped America. But actually, it covers a much broader swath of our collective past—going back to when people first figured out that wood could offer warmth, shelter, and a means of cooking food, and stretching to the present day. Along the way, Preszler teases out some surprising, and often deeply affecting, aspects of evergreen-related history. The book is subtitled The Trees That Shaped America. But actually, it covers a much broader swath of our collective past. They include the trees’ connection to slavery in the Deep South, where workers were forced to clear-cut land for cotton cultivation; how the timber industry offered an unlikely refuge for gay men in an era when homosexuality was criminalized; and the environmental toll of today’s artificial Christmas trees, which he decries as yet another source of plastic waste. “It’s like the courtroom drama that would unfold if you brought evergreens into the witness stand and swore them in,” says Preszler, a professor of practice in the Dyson School. “They kept the receipts about everything, from world wars to religion to construction booms. I basically just wrote down everything that they’ve been trying to tell us for 365 million years.” For example: why did Rome fall? As Preszler describes it, the main reason wasn’t lead pipes or mad Caesars or military overreach: it was that it ran out of wood. Vast stands of Aleppo pines that once graced the Apennine Mountains were razed to fuel iron smelters and even heat bathhouses—like Rome’s famed Baths of Caracalla, which consumed an astonishing 10 tons of firewood daily. “The Romans had to maraud through Europe and Northern Africa because they were desperate for more wood,” Preszler says. “They needed more trees, and eventually it was their downfall.” And ancient Rome was hardly the last civilization to capitalize on its evergreens—and then suffer for having (more or less literally) burned through them, or used them up for homebuilding and other purposes. “This is human folly,” he says. “It’s the pattern that has repeated throughout history: we deplete our resources, then throw our hands in the air and ask, ‘What are we going to do now?’” That’s where the Pine Tree Riot comes in. As Preszler explains, a key impetus for Britain’s expansion across the Atlantic was the quest for tall, straight trees to serve as masts for its naval ships, having exhausted the island nation’s native supply. This is human folly. It’s the pattern that has repeated throughout history: we deplete our resources, then throw our hands in the air and ask, ‘What are we going to do now?’ After a brisk lumber trade grew up in the Colonies, Britain decreed that mast-worthy white pines—those whose trunks were more than 24 inches wide—were property of the Crown. Royal surveyors would carve a special mark into the forbidden trees; naturally, the colonists would swiftly fell them for lumber. So Britain doubled down, declaring that all white pines were off limits, and even sending a sheriff to arrest some New Hampshire sawmill operators for illegal harvesting. Stories You May Like ‘Cosmos,’ a Pulitzer, and More: Fascinating Facts about Carl Sagan What’s Up with Pickleball? On April 14, 1772, that road-weary lawman stopped at a tavern for a drink of ale—and was promptly ambushed by irate locals led by an anti-royalist sawyer, one Ebenezer Mudgett. “A veteran of countless disputes with Crown officials, Mudgett and his friends dragged the hapless sheriff outside, held him upside down by his ankles, and whipped him mercilessly with pine boughs—an ironic punishment delivered with savage glee,” Preszler writes. “The humiliated sheriff fled on his horse past a gauntlet of jeering townsfolk. News of the brawl quickly spread throughout New England, galvanizing anti-Crown sentiment.” Preszler's research included touring logging sites. So why did Preszler decide to take a deep dive into evergreens? In part, it’s connected to his first book, Little and Often, a memoir in which he processed the grief of his father’s death by handmaking a wooden canoe using his dad’s tools; while crafting it, Preszler often wondered about the wood’s origins. And his academic bona fides—he holds a master’s in agricultural economics and a doctorate in horticultural biology, both from CALS—make him particularly well suited to the subject matter. But for Preszler, it really started with some oddly colored Christmas trees. Preszler's academic bona fides—he holds a master’s in agricultural economics and a doctorate in horticultural biology—make him particularly well suited to the subject matter. A few Decembers ago, when he was living on Long Island, he went shopping at his local tree farm—and encountered specimens sprayed outlandish shades not found in nature. “Being both a botanist and an economist, I was fascinated by the fact that we took the most natural thing in the world—probably our most renewable resource—a tree, and it still wasn’t good enough; we had to spray paint it gold and pink and blue,” he recalls. “And they were the best sellers. People were driving off with them, and I was in awe at how commercial the whole entire enterprise had become. That sparked curiosity: if I followed this story, where would it go?” The alarmingly hued Christmas trees that started it all. The answer was: quite a lot of places. Preszler delved into the essential role that spruces played in aircraft construction during World War I. He learned about traditional Native American forestry practices, including controlled burns—and the environmental catastrophes that ensued when Europeans quashed those traditions. Amid countless tales of trees being voraciously consumed, he explored a prominent case of when too many cause serious harm: with junipers no longer kept in check by Indigenous burns and grazing buffalo, he writes, they’re taking over precious grasslands. Perhaps the most striking story he encountered, though, was the role of logging in LGBTQ history of the 19th and early 20th centuries—something that Preszler, himself a gay man, had never heard of before. “In that era, logging was the most dangerous profession on Earth,” he explains. “They used axes to cut down trees that were 30 feet wide. If you worked a 10-year career as a lumberjack in the late 1800s, you stood about a 50-50 chance of being crushed to death.” Perhaps the most striking story he encountered was the role of logging in LGBTQ history of the 19th and early 20th centuries—something that Preszler, himself a gay man, had never heard of before. At that time, Preszler notes, the word “homosexuality” didn’t exist in English; sex between men was punishable by incarceration, institutionalization, and even forced sterilization. “This ostracized subculture of men with no other options in life—destitute and poor and sad—turned to the forests,” he says. “And the timber barons of the time were eager to hire a labor force that was expendable and invisible.” As a result, he says, from around the 1849 California Gold Rush through World War I, the majority of timber-cutters were queer men—a population also heavily represented in the Civilian Conservation Corps of the 1930s. “I was shocked to find archival photos of men in lumber camps holding hands, having ‘bachelor weddings,’” he says. “It turns out that it was a whole culture; the forest became their refuge.” (Top: Forest photo by Ganesh Rijal via Wikimedia Commons. All other images provided.) Published December 9, 2025 Leave a Comment Cancel replyOnce your comment is approved, your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *Comment * Name * Class Year Email * Save my name, email, and class year in this browser for the next time I comment. Δ Other stories You may like Students Big Red Volleyball Standout Advocates for Women in Sports Cornelliana Remembering Dave Nulle, Big Red Hockey’s Beloved ‘Zamboni Guy’ Students In Yiddish Class, Teacher and Students Find Mishpokhe—‘Family’