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 | | | | | Oy, Tannenbaum | | | When Miami tried to outdo New York for the country’s biggest Christmas tree, the fir started flying. So how come Newport Beach, Calif., is enjoying the fruits of victory? | |
| | | Dec. 23 — Here in Miami, it’s another picture-perfect South Florida day. The sun, hot in the sky, is scorching my sandal-clad feet, which are exposed to the air for the first time since the balmy weather abandoned New York in September. Biscayne Bay, always glistening, has taken on that inviting aquamarine color of warm Caribbean water. | |
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SO WHAT’S THE deal with this huge Christmas tree? Certainly global warming hasn’t gotten so bad that spiky evergreens are now indigenous to the City that Winter Forgot? Did I have one too many mojitos at the hotel bar last night? No, this isn’t a bad hangover; this tree is really standing here, looking about as incongruous as a Panama hat in Quebec.
For reasons that range from mere holiday cheer to low civic self-image, the city of Miami, where even the cops wear pastel, has installed a 110-foot Norway spruce on the shore of Biscayne Bay.
The holiday cheer part is easily explained. When you live in a town where people dream not of having a white Christmas, but of not putting on the air conditioner before February, anything that brings to mind the look and feel of the North Pole helps.
But explaining the civic self-image part is where this Christmas story diverts from the usual plotline of peace on earth and goodwill towards others into a tale of anger, revenge, hate, mistrust, bitterness, cross-country recrimination and really gaudy yuletide decorations.
It all started in November, when Miami officials decided that they were sick of New York—whose official Christmas tree has stood in Rockefeller Center since 1931—stealing the seasonal spotlight.
“In Miami, the climate doesn’t usually make you think of holiday spirit,” said Nelson Albareda, a PR man who dipped Miami’s toe into the churning waters of competitive tree trimming. “New York has us on that.”
Albareda has a point. During my one-week, expense-account stay in South Florida, I saw all manner of Christmas incongruities: Santa’s sled powered by dolphins, inflatable snowmen on the roofs of scuba shops, and even a Christmas tree in Key West decorated with pineapples and bananas. Florida in December brings to mind that classic of the 1980s “rock-aid” era: Do they know it’s Christmastime at all?
So Albareda took the battle right to New York’s spiritual heart, buying that huge Norway spruce from a New York suburb—the same holy ground where Rockefeller Center gets its trees every year—and hoisting it in Bayfront Park with a proclamation declaring it “the tallest Christmas tree in the country!” | | |
Suddenly, the Christmas tree you see every morning on the Today show had some serious competition. After all, New York’s celebrated Norway spruce—which draws Japanese tourists from all over the world—is only 76 feet tall.
Like two parents grabbing for the same “Tickle Me Elmo” doll, New York and Miami squared off. Rather than take the high road, New York’s own Christmas tree picker openly mocked Miami’s version, which may be taller, but is narrow at the base, making it the Yao Ming of Christmas trees.
“If I came back with a tree that’s tall, narrow and skinny, it wouldn’t be fun,” David Murbach, who has picked New York’s tree for almost 20 years, told The New York Times. “You can easily find tall trees, but it’s hard to find one that’s dense and wide enough. Our tree [has] the perfect triangular shape.”
Someone then floated the rumor that Miami’s tree—like a cheap Vegas showgirl or an expensive Hollywood ingénue — had implants. Branch implants. (Man, this is getting ugly.) Miami initially denied it, but later had to own up to the fact that its tree is as cosmetically altered as a Botox-addicted Upper East Side dowager.
“There’s nothing wrong with implants,” said Kelly Penton, a spokeswoman for Miami Mayor Manny Diaz, who ducked direct questions from this reporter. “We wanted our tree to look its best.”
Unfortunately, the South Florida climate has not obliged. During my fact-finding mission to the so-called City of Magic, the implants on Miami’s tree stood out like the helmet of hair on Trent Lott’s head: all the supplemental branches were brown and dry (not that the rest of the tree was holding up so well in the heat and salt air of the mostly cement Bayfront Park).
I intended to interview the local residents and tourists who flock to the tree, but there was no one around. No one at all. No tourists. No locals. Not even the guy who services the Friendly John porta-toilets was around (that much was vividly clear from personal experience). So much for the Miami tree becoming a civic epicenter. Meanwhile, 1,300 miles to the north, thousands of tourists were crawling over every inch of Rockefeller Center, being overcharged to skate at the famous rink, being ripped off for hot chocolate and being disappointed that Al Roker had again called in thin. Now that’s Christmas. | | |
Having seen Miami’s tree, I called Murbach for an “I-told-them-so” comment, but he refused to talk. So I called Albareda back and told him that New York had clammed up. Well, that opened the floodgates.
“It started out so friendly,” he said. “The people in New York sent us a wreath full of apples, so we sent them back a basket of Florida oranges. But then it got strange. We were supposed to do the Today Show with them, but they cancelled at the last minute, so the Today show had to kill the segment. Maybe they didn’t want to give us equal time.”
And what about Newport Beach, California? Just when it looked like Miami and New York had a monopoly on the intercity squabbling, the ritzy Orange County city announced that its Christmas tree—a 112-foot white fir that stands outside the Fashion Island shopping mall—was actually the country’s tallest.
“It’s also the best-looking tree,” said Vito Serrao, whose Strictly Custom Christmas Tree company found it for Newport Beach. “It’s the tree of trees, the perfect shape. I’ve been doing this for 50 years, so my opinion is well-regarded.”
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Not in Miami: “A white fir is much thinner than a Norway spruce,” said Albareda.
That kind of talk really set off Serrao. “A Norway spruce goes all over the place and hangs like a willow tree, but white fir has a very thick body,” he said. “It’s a great tree for decorating. A Norway spruce doesn’t have the strength.” (Rockefeller Center officials again tried to stay out of the fray, issuing a statement that spoke of the New York tradition that is “replicated in cities and towns all over this country.” Wimps.)
I sought out an objective voice in the Christmas tree world, someone who could tell me once and for all which city has the best tree in the country, but even the folks at the National Christmas Tree Association dropped this hot potato. They wouldn’t even talk about what the “perfect” tree should look like.
“The beauty of a Christmas tree is that everyone can get what he likes,” said Rick Dungey. “There is no ‘perfect’ tree — except it should be a natural tree, not an artificial tree.” Even the NCTA website (http://www.realchristmastrees.org/home.html) plays no favorites—unless needle retention is your big issue. Needing to find out more, I’ve booked a flight to Newport Beach for a week of what is clearly vital fact-finding—on NEWSWEEK’s dime, of course. I’ll give you a full report upon my return.
[Editor’s note: According to the accounting department, Gersh Kuntzman’s American Beat will not return after the New Year, pending a detailed audit of his expense records.]
Gersh Kuntzman is also a columnist for The New York Post. His website is at www.gersh.tv
© 2002 Newsweek, Inc.
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