However silver their branches, these specimens of aluminum arbor stand for simple joy.
By David E. Brown
One well-known, round-faced antihero was among the first to publicly
scorn them: When Charlie Brown went to buy a tree in the 1965 classic A
Charlie Brown Christmas, Lucy bossed, "Get the biggest aluminum
tree you can find... maybe painted pink." But Chuck couldn't find
meaning in cold metal. Instead, he dragged home a sorry, bent fir.
In Manitowoc, Wisconsin, far from where the Peanuts gang lives, artists
Julie Lindemann and John Shimon side with Lucy in embracing the
artificial icons. "They are as beautiful as the greatest Modernist
sculpture," says Lindemann about these shiny artifacts of the early
1960s. "They were so new. They carried this feeling of optimism,
that humans could come up with better solutions than nature."
Whether aluminum is superior to fir for conveying the holiday spirit is
debatable, but the artificial trees are certainly simpler in structure
and design than the forest variety. "The tree engineers' concern
was to manufacture these things in the cheapest, easiest way," says
Shimon. "The straightforwardness ended up creating beautiful
objects."
Lindemann and Shimon rediscovered the aluminum trees of their childhood
when they moved to Manitowoc in 1989 and began seeing them at rummage
sales and thrift stores. Says Shimon, "At some point it occurred to
me that maybe if a person had enough of these to set them together in
kind of a forest, it would be an interesting display." Since then,
the collaborators have amassed almost 40 trees, ranging from
one-foot-tall "seedlings" to majestic seven-footers, as well
as many of the accompanying rotating color projectors.
"Oh my God, to experience these trees!" Lindemann exclaims.
"It's 50-below outside, and you come downstairs with a glass of
champagne, and the lights are going, and the trees are creaking. The
coldness of the aluminum and the white space and the howling wind late
at night are very hypnotic."
In December 1958, Tom Gannon, a sales manager for the Aluminum Specialty
Company, returned home to Manitowoc from a Ben Franklin store in Chicago
with news of a hand-built metal tree. The small industrial city known as
the Aluminum Cookware Capital of the World rose to the challenge, and
Aluminum Specialty had a model ready for the next Christmas season. Soon
thereafter, the company perfected the Evergleam, its most successful
artificial tree. (Though Gannon insists, "We never sold artificial
trees. We sold permanent trees.")
The search for trees has led Lindemann and Shimon to some of the
Aluminum Specialty employees who originally hand-tufted the metallic
branches. "We went over to this woman's house to buy what might
have been one of the earliest trees," Lindemann recalls, "and
her mother [who used to work in the factory] was there, in her late
eighties, hunched over in a chair. The sun was setting and they plugged
the rotating light in, and the rest of the room was dark. This little
old woman was telling us about making branches while the colored light
twirled around."