Activists Want to Save "Grandma Brooks' Cedar." Her Family Says They're Misrepresenting Their Mother's Wishes

"Mom hated that tree," Barbara Brooks' daughters say.

By Erica C. Barnett

On February 9, several dozen people gathered outside a construction site in northeast Seattle to rally around a large Western red cedar tree, which is slated for removal as part of a new development that will replace a one-story bungalow with four new townhouses. The city had recently posted a notice that the tree could come down as February 10, so neighbors who wanted to save the tree scrambled to respond.

"We were shocked because it was too close [in time]," said Saraswati Sunindyo, who lives down the street. "We didn’t have enough time to do much of anything."

Tree Action Seattle, a group that has pushed for revisions to Seattle's tree ordinance that would make it harder to remove trees for development, quickly got to work, organizing the rally and creating an action page for the tree, which is located just off busy NE 65th Street, between two apartment buildings and across the street from a drive-through coffee stand.

Formerly one of several anonymous large trees on the block, the cedar now had a name—Grandma Brooks' Cedar—and a backstory: According to Tree Action Seattle, the previous homeowner, Barbara Brooks, "lovingly cared for" and "cherished" the tree for for more than 70 years. "On hot summer days, she would carry a bucket of water to the tree to water it," according to the website, and even swept the driveway of the neighboring apartment complex until she was almost 90.

When the apartment complex owner offered to buy her house, the site continues, Brooks refused, because he said his plans would require cutting down the tree. "Barbara passed away at 103, and requested her family only sell the property to a buyer that would preserve the tree."

According to Tree Action, Legacy Capital Partners, the real estate firm brokered the deal, "offered to save the tree," but "immediately filed plans to remove the cedar" once the land was in their hands. A representative from Legacy did not immediately respond to a request for comment, and the owner of the apartment building did not return a call last week.

According to Seattle Department of Construction and Inspections spokesman Bryan Stevens, developers are allowed to remove "Tier 2" trees—those with a diameter of 24 inches or more—if retaining the tree would reduce the amount of developable land on a lot to less than 85 percent of its total area. Anyone who removes a tree for development must replace the tree with a tree or trees that will result in a similar or greater tree canopy once they mature.

Those trees, however, will take a long time to grow to full height—longer than many of the people mourning the loss of the cedar will be alive.

"The whole neighborhood really loves the tree," Sunindyo said. There are other Western red cedars in the area, she acknowledged, but "they're not as big as that one. My kids grew up with that tree. A neighbor who is 70 years old said, 'When I was little, it was already big.' So everyone is attached to that tree."

Not everyone.

"Mom hated that tree," said Beverly Brooks, who grew up in the house and lived with her mother for the last seven years of her life. "My mother never took buckets of water to water the tree. She was 101, not 103, [when she died], and she never told any neighbor that she loved that tree. We all hated that tree."

As for protesters' claims that their family told Legacy they had to keep the tree in place, Beverly said, "We never said anything to anybody about that tree."

"Our mother hated that tree," Beverly's sister Barbara confirmed. "It's a huge tree, and it sheds all the time." Her mother maintained the tree to the best of her ability, removing piles of needles from the roof, gutters, and sidewalk, but she certainly didn't "cherish" or "lovingly care for" it, the sisters said.

"My mom would cut back the branches and clean it up just constantly," Barbara said. "We didn't have a lot of money growing up. Mom always said, 'If I could afford to get rid of this tree, I would.'"

"That tree was a burden to my mom for years and years," Beverly said. Eventually, it became her burden as well. For 30 years, into her 70s, Beverly climbed up on the roof to remove needles from the house and gutters, then cleared the sidewalk. "I didn't want anybody to fall and get hurt," she said. In all that time, "Not one of the neighbors asked if they could help or nothing. They saw me up on the roof and every man turned the other way."

"They call my mom 'Grandma Brooks.' I don’t like that," Beverly added. "Her name was Mrs. Brooks. She wasn’t a grandma to any of them."

Both sisters recall that a neighbor across the street told their mother she needed to put a covenant on the property so that any future buyer would have to keep the tree, but their mother said no. They were surprised at the vitriol the new owner, Legacy, has received for their plans to remove the tree. "In our minds, we just thought 'let's get rid of it' because it's going to cause the next people problems," Barbara said.

Today, the Brooks' house is gone, reduced to a pile of rubble. After the city received an anonymous complaint about potential groundwater pollution from asbestos, the new owner, Ashworth Homes, stopped demolition to do a second asbestos remediation on what's left of the house, stopping work on the project.

Remnants from the recent protest, including a circle of rose petals surrounded by a wreath of cedar boughs, remained visible on the ground as of last week. The tree, which towers over the three-story apartment complex next door, is now surrounded by protective fencing that neighbors have festooned with signs reading "SAVE THIS TREE!!!" and "MAKE AMERICA AN ENDLESS EXPANSE OF OLD-GROWTH FOREST WITH NO CERTAIN BORDERS AGAIN."

There is no old-growth forest remaining in Seattle neighborhoods, although isolated old-growth trees can be found in a few local parks. Western red cedars like the one in the Brooks' former yard take about 50 years to reach their mature height of 80 feet or more, and were part of the landscaping planted to replace the old-growth forest that was destroyed to develop single-family neighborhoods across what is now Seattle.

Tree Action Seattle argues that it would be a simple thing to keep the tree in place and redesign the site plan, by shifting around the buildings and converting two of the four proposed garage spaces into surface parking spots. "I showed the plan to two architects," Tree Action's Sandy Shettler said over email. "One of them laughed and said there are so many ways to design the site with the same amount of housing around this tree you'd have to go out of your way to remove it."

Ashworth Homes president Erich Armbruster agrees it might be technically possible to keep the tree–but not on the site plan he purchased the plans for the property based on a layout that has more value because of the size and floor plans of the homes that can be built there, including garages and more usable ground-floor space than Tree Action's proposed site plan would allow.

"Had I been presented that plan, presuming it was possible, might I have purchased it? Yes, I might have, but not for the price I paid," Armbruster said. Tree Action's plan, he said, lowers the value of the finished development by replacing garages with less desirable surface parking and changing the layout of the building next to the tree to make the first floor "harder to lay out for any sort of meaningful use."

Property records show the Brooks sold the property to Ashworth for a little more than $1 million.

"A bank would have required it to be less because the finished value isn’t as high," Armbruster said. "I purchased a permitted site plan that was all negotiated according to the rules in place today." Renegotiating the plan now would be like buying a car, driving it off the lot, and getting a call from the dealer asking you to pay more for the tires. "We can’t renegotiate it, because I’ve already purchased it."

A rendering of the approved townhouses on the site of the Brooks' former property.

Armbruster said that after tree activists began protesting the removal of the cedar, the tree service provider he hired to remove the tree backed out and he had to hire a new one—an event that's reflected in city records. Once they've completed asbestos remediation and received a permit to remove the tree, work can move forward again, Armbruster said.

There is one way for homeowners to prevent future developers to remove a tree on their property: Before selling a property or passing it on to heirs, an owner can place a covenant on the land to protect the tree. Although both sisters recalled a neighbor telling her mother repeatedly to protect the tree with this kind of covenant, she didn't. "He would tell my mom, 'When you sell this house, put it in writing that this tree has to stay,' and she said, 'No, don’t tell me what to do," Beverly recalled.

The sisters say the pressure from neighbors has made them feel uncomfortable returning to their old neighborhood. But Barbara did stop briefly by the recent protest. "I went to their little event," she recalled, "and said 'Don't homeowners, after they pay taxes for 75 years, have the right to sell the place?"

"I’ll be honest with you," Barbara said, "it's just like killing my mom over and over. ... It's been three years. Can't that poor woman just be left alone?"