Celebrating More than 40 Years of Lifting Spirits
After years of getting all dolled up for
the holidays, the Sottile tree might be accustomed to the weight of oversized ornaments and the glow of festive lights – but, five years ago, the College’s holiday tree experienced what must have been a much more uncomfortable sensation: the sharp pinch of a drill.
In all fairness, pain is far from what biology professor Phil Dustan (pictured here) was going for when he took the thin coring from the Lebanon cedar. Rather, he wanted to establish the tree as a centenarian and to remind the campus of its biological importance.
“These are the things that record the history of the biosphere,” says Dustan, pointing to the lines running across the coring. “Each of these shows the tree’s different growth rates over the years.”
The 
coring is mounted in Dustan’s lab beside a timeline of the last century’s major world conflicts. While tanks, machine guns and fighter planes shook battlefields across the globe, the tree silently expanded up and out. Its single wartime sacrifice seems to be the forfeiture of its holiday lights during World War II, when blackouts were required across the country.
The tree may have been unscathed by catastrophic manmade events, but it was acutely susceptible to natural events like Hurricane Hugo (which caused a growth spurt) and various atmospheric and geological fluctuations. In other words, its rings contain the details of Mother Nature’s not-so-obvious story.
This is precisely why – upon hearing whispers of plans to remove the less-than-robust Sottile tree – Dustan and other members of the campus community presented the Faculty Senate with a petition to save this “outstanding, unique member of our campus arboretum.”
The motion to protect the Sottile tree passed unanimously in April 2003, thus upholding the tradition that started in 1921, when the Sottile family hung oversized lights and a carol-playing speaker in the tree, drawing throngs of spectators to get a peek at what was Charleston’s first electrically lighted outdoor holiday tree.
“Cedar Lebanons have that traditional fir-tree shape when they’re young, so it probably looked more like a Christmas tree back then,” says John Davis, campus arborist and grounds supervisor. “But as these trees grow old, they end up with bare trunks and big lopsided heads on them.”
That didn’t bother the grandchildren of J.C. and Alberta Sottile Long, who turned the tree’s lights on once again in 1986 – 45 years after they’d been extinguished in World War II – in what was to become the College’s inaugural tree lighting ceremony.
“The annual tree lighting debuts the holiday season at the College,” says former President Ted Stern (1968–1979). “It’s supposed to lift up the spirits.”
And, as the favorite ugly duckling on campus, the Sottile holiday tree has been doing exactly that for years: bringing people together to eat, sing and be merry.
“Even though it’s strangely shaped and weird, it’s part of the College,” Dustan says. “Besides, if you were 100 years old and stood out in the weather all the time, you’d look beat up, too.”
All the more reason to get a little dolled up every once in a while.