JACK LONDON still had an address on Telegraph Avenue and was giving socialist speeches at Lafayette Park.
He and a young Earl Warren were known to drink together at Pabst Cafe on Eighth Street and at Heinold's First and Last Chance Saloon.
Mayor Frank Mott had just been elected, and, according to his plans, the city began purchasing land to create the Lake Merritt Park.
Ten miles of Oakland streets were paved with asphalt to accommodate the cars that were beginning to appear. Broadway was the first to be paved, followed by 14th Street and San Pablo Avenue.
Joaquin Miller was throwing the big parties he was known for at his house on what is now Joaquin Miller Road.
In 1905, an oak tree was just taking root in Fruitvale, an unincorporated area that wasn't yet part of Oakland. (Source for historical information: Steve LaVoie, Librarian Oakland History Room.)
That tree, now one of the city's oldest oaks, was the subject of a community goodbye ceremony Sunday. Dozens of people gathered in Dimond Park, sipped champagne and sparkling cider and munched on acorn-shaped cookies baked by City Councilmember Jean Quan. The tree, known as the "Champagne Oak" because the Dimond family stored bottles of champagne in it, has been devastated by fungus and must be cut down.
To the untrained eye, the tree doesn't look diseased. It's towering, the leaves are still green, and it appears sturdy. If it weren't for the yellow caution tape blocking off the area around the tree, you might not know anything was wrong.
But three arborists said the tree was severely damaged and nearly hollow. One arborist concluded it had only about one-third of the trunk tissue needed to sustain it.
One of the city's gardeners had been trying to save the tree for 16 years, cutting back the branches to reduce the weight on the weakened trunk. When arborists found fungus in the root system, the danger of the tree falling over was too great. The tree will be cut down this week.
"It was a moving ceremony," Quan said. "It kind of reminded me of us baby boomers coming to grips with death as our hair turns gray and we bury our parents. It was sad, but as one of the kids said, 'We have to go on.'"
With so many pressing issues facing the city, some might question so much attention being paid to a tree. (Quan said she received several angry e-mails to that effect.) Old trees, like historic buildings, are part of the city's fiber. Standing under its craggy branches, we can imagine it as a sapling spreading its roots when the city was just beginning to take the shape we know today.
Oakland won't be quite the same Oakland without its beloved Champagne Oak.
"The oak tree is the symbol of our city," Quan said. "It's an important part of our cultural and biological history. It's like the canary in the coal mine. It's a symbol of all the things we need to look at to have a balanced ecology."
She said she learned some valuable lessons in the effort to save the tree (including more information about oaks than she could possibly use).
She wants to develop a system in which city gardeners notify the advisory board to a park if they plan to remove an old tree. (City gardeners were about to cut down the Dimond tree last month when they were stopped by members of Friends of Sausal Creek, who happened to be in the park. The removal was delayed a month while Quan called in outside experts to see whether the tree could be saved.)
"I also want to develop a registry of the city's historic trees to make sure we're taking good care of them," she said.
The Champagne Oak was probably damaged by getting too much water from the irrigation of surrounding park lawns, she said. Quan also plans to spend some money she had earmarked for saving the tree on clearing the vines from the oaks in the park and Dimond Canyon.
"We want to put parts of the trunk nearby, along with an exhibit about the life cycle of the California oak, including information telling people how to take care of their trees."