After a Snowden Place residence recently became a rebuilding project for “This Old House,” the show’s producers took an extensive tour of Glen Ridge. What struck them particularly were the borough’s stunning treescapes which, in their words, “accentuate the [town’s] idyllic setting.” They couldn’t get over the size and magnificence of so many of our street trees. Indeed, they chose to film a segment focusing on the Shade Tree Commission’s efforts to preserve and maintain them. 

Nonetheless, the ultimate credit for establishing treescapes as key to the borough’s aesthetic belongs to an early 20th-century town planner by the name of John Nolen, as well as to the foresighted citizens who engaged his services in 1909.

“Nolen Report” Shapes a Community with Trees

The turn of the 20th century was an era of reform, rooted in the belief that social engineering could create human betterment. During this period, Glen Ridge was establishing itself as an independent community. So, it is not surprising that, in 1909, a group of concerned residents, calling themselves the Borough Improvements Committee, took it upon themselves to hire a town planner, John Nolen, then working in Montclair, to create a developmental plan for the borough. 

To that end, they couldn’t have chosen more wisely. John Nolen had graduated from Harvard’s School of Landscape Architecture, where he studied under Frederick Law Olmstead, Jr. Consequently, his premise was to design towns in harmony with the natural environment. And by the end of his career in 1937, having completed more than 400 “new” town projects, including one for San Diego, he had come to be regarded as the “dean of American city planning."

In his 1909 Glen Ridge report, Nolen makes many recommendations regarding such issues as developing a town center, dealing with railroad crossings, laying out streets, and planning schools and playgrounds. But in terms of establishing an overall natural aesthetic, his recommendation boiled down to the planting and maintenance of trees - large trees along every street.

"For Glen Ridge to longer neglect its street trees is to lose the value of its chief asset," he argued, and concluded that "the street trees [should be] promptly placed under the care of a Shade Tree Commission and given the careful and artistic attention which they need and deserve."

Setting the Template

Although they had not solicited the report, the Mayor and Council acted upon it with dispatch, forming a three-man Shade Tree Commission in March 1910 and giving it the financial wherewithal for its ambitious plan to plant systematically along every borough street. Indeed, in 1911 alone, they planted 324 trees. But it was their actions and those of the Council the following year that proved crucial to establishing trees as the defining element of the borough. 

In 1912, they turned their attention to the north end of the town, which was the area then undergoing the most development: Their stated intention was “to plant trees on either side of Ridgewood Avenue, from Bay Avenue to Watchung Avenue. Ten years from now this should make one of the finest Avenues to be found in the State.” 



Before this planting could take place, however, the Council heeded another of Nolen’s suggestions and passed an ordinance precluding the placement of power poles along the borough’s streets. This allowed the commissioners to plant more than 200 pin oaks along Ridgewood Avenue, unimpeded by overhead lines. For the next 100 years, that allée of oaks would become the iconic image of the borough, establishing its elegance and charm, and reinforcing the notion that trees were the key to the town’s aesthetic.

(By the way, the picture above was taken in 2009. Today, all of those trees are gone.)

The Commission also understood the importance of maintaining the town’s public trees. In 1930, they oversaw the hiring of a full-time arborist, Frederick Dahlgren, whose passion for trees approximated that of a lioness for her cubs. And the following year, probably at Dahlgren’s direction, a Shade Tree Department was established within the Department of Public Works. Dahlgren also documented and brought public awareness to “the damage to trees by fires, automobiles, horses and … thoughtless children using knives and experimenting with new hatchets.” Although his tenure lasted only 5 years, he instituted rigorous techniques for planting and preserving trees. By the time he retired, the borough had 4,700 public trees with all the needed protocols for maintaining them in place.

Then, in 1941, when the borough’s attention turned to wartime civil defense, the Commission was disbanded. Subsequently, the care of trees was solely in the hands of the Shade Tree Department. It, too, was disbanded in the 1960s to slash a budget engorged by the building of the new high school. At that point, tree maintenance boiled down to planting a maple for every tree removed until maples constituted over 67% of our public trees. As spectacular as the trees looked by the end of the 20th century, a full-blown tree crisis loomed.

As early as the 1990s, many of the trees planted in the early 20th century were beginning to die. Making matters far worse, maple trees, young and old, began succumbing to a deadly syndrome called “maple decline.” Unrelenting tree removals, over 60 per year, ate up the tree budget, meaning no trees were being planted or maintained. The number of public trees fell below 3,000 and many borough streets were being denuded. 

So, in 2010, 100 years after the first Shade Tree Commission was established, a new one was created, charged with replanting the town, while preserving as many mature trees as possible. 

At the outset, the Commission tried to take a measured approach to tree planting. But after an additional 80 trees were lost in the October Snowstorm in 2011 and 120 to Hurricane Sandy in 2012, it became clear that a major capital investment was needed.

It was also clear that, because of climate change, the planting challenges were greater than they had been 100 years ago. Given what had happened to elms, maples, and ash trees, an intermixture of species had to be planted along every street, meaning that a specific species had to be chosen for each planting site. Moreover, species had to be selected that would be acclimated to this region 50 to 60 years in the future.

The Commission has met this challenge. In the last 14 years, it has overseen the planting of more than 1,500 trees, representing many southern species such as black gums and yellowwoods.

It was also the Commission’s mission to protect existing trees from needless damage. No longer were horses or small children with hatchets the primary threats, but string trimmers, power mowers, and mulch volcanoes. So a concerted community outreach effort was undertaken to educate residents about these threats.

In addition, in 2018, the Commission oversaw the institution of a regular maintenance zone pruning program. There is no question that such pruning prolongs the lives of trees, demonstrably reduces risk, and ultimately saves money. 

Sadly, despite all its planting efforts, the crisis has not abated. This year, 114 trees were planted, but 118 were removed. Consequently, there are only about 411 more trees today than there were in 2011. This means that well over a third of the town’s mature trees have been replaced with saplings, constituting a significant environmental cost. 

Nonetheless, just like the producers of “This Old House,” one can’t help but notice the young, vigorous trees lining our streets. Their stalwart loveliness will hopefully insure the borough’s arboreal splendor -- with a nod to John Nolen -- well into the future.