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Charlotte Zolotow

The
Beautiful

Christmas Tree
illustrated

by Ruth Robbins

up

THE
BEAUTIFUL CHRISTMAS TREE
by Charlotte Zolotow
illustrated

by

Ruth Robbins
On
the
first

Christmas after Mr.

Crockett moves into his brownstone

house, the scraggy
little

potted

pine tree makes a poor showing in

his

window compared

to the

bushy

ornamented Christmas
neighbors.

trees of his

And

the neighbors are

shocked.

They

are even

more shocked

when, the following spring,

Mr. Crockett plants the small ugly
tree in front of his house.

As
little
it
it

the seasons go by, the lonely

man

cares for his tree,

warming

with hay in winter and watering

in

summer.

He puts out crumbs for

summer
birds until
to feed

the

winter and

more
later

and more birds come

and sing

around the growing pine. Years

on Christmas Day, the neighbors

discover the joy of Mr. Crockett's
secret: living things

need

love.

The

illustrations

evoke the warmth

story.

of this gentle,

human

PARNASSUS PRESS BERKELEY, CALIFORNIA

BOSTON
PUBLIC LIBRARY

&

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The
Beautiful
*

Christmas M JU? Tree

by Charlotte Zolotow
illustrated

by

Ruth Robbins
PARNASSUS PRESS BERKELEY. CALIFORNIA

COPYRIGHT I972 BY CHARLOTTE ZOLOTOW FOR STORY COPYRIGHT I972 BY RUTH ROBBINS FOR ILLUSTRATIONS PUBLISHED BY PARNASSUS PRESS
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOG CARD
ISBN O-87466-OO4-I

NUMBER 7O-182950

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

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here was once a city street with a

row

of trees,
It

one in front of each brownstone house.

was

lovely street. Birds sang in the trees, people swept

the stoops

and

sat there

on hot summer nights en-

joying the
one.
It

stars.

All the houses were lived in except

time.

had been empty a long

street

The
tract

with

its

trees

and

birds began to at-

more and more elegant

sit

people.

These new

people did not

out on their stoops at night to

too elegant for that

watch the

stars.

They were

and

they were not the

sort, these

new

people, to buy a
as

house that had been empty for years, a house

rundown

as the lonely

brownstone.

Its

stoop was dirty, the sidewalk was cracked,

dust,

the

windows were grey with

and the

tree that

once grew in front of the house had dried up and

died.

"That place

is

an eyesore," the neighbors

that
in

said.

Each day they hoped

someone fashionable
and
in
fix
it it

and elegant would move

over.

When Mr.

Crockett

moved

was plain

that

he was neither elegant nor fashionable. They saw

him on weekends washing

his

the dirty

windows

of

brownstone with ammonia and water, and

little

they snorted. "He's a strange

said,

man," they
about

and

their lips

were tight
it

as they talked

him. "Imagine doing

ular

himself!" They had regtheir

window washers who squeegeed

win-

dows
little

clean during the week. But the gnarled

man named Donald

until they shone
air

Crockett washed his

windows
sheet of

and sparkled
clean.

like a

mountain
one knew

fresh and

No
one

much

about Mr. Crockett be-

cause the neighbors didn't care to talk to some-

who worked all week and scrubbed the white steps of his own brownstone on weekends. He
it

did
it,

slowly and carefully, as though he enjoyed

dipping his gnarled stubby hands into the

bucket of foamy water, scrubbing back and forth

if
u
a pocket knife

on the

step.

Sometimes he took

out of his corduroy jacket and worked the point

around
clucked

till

the dirt

came

loose.

The
his

neighbors

when

they saw

him on

hands and

knees that way.

Since they had other people to scrub their
steps,

they never looked carefully enough to see

u

i,,

i.i

id

JJiu

'

the city dirt that

was not scrubbed out

of the

corners of their stoops.

One
little

fall

day they saw Mr. Crockett come out

with a spading-fork.

He

loosened the dirt in the

patch in front of his house where long ago

the neglected tree of the

empty house had

died.

He dug

his spading-fork in

and turned the

ground.

Then he

stooped

down and

let

some

of

the dirt fall through his fingers.

"Good

rich soil," he said to himself.

fat

worm

squiggled

its

way back

into the

ground and Mr. Crockett smiled.

"It's

good

earth,

something will grow here,"

he said to himself.

The

neighbors watching through their winas

dows frowned

he put his fork over his shoulder

steps of his

and walked happily up the

stone,

brown-

where the windows sparkled

air.

like a sheet

of

mountain

'V

At

the

end of the

street

and

just

around the

corner there was a flower store.

Coming home
in
in.

from work every night Mr. Crockett stopped

front of the

window and looked

filled

That

fall

the

window was

with yellow and orange

chrysanthemums, edged round with flaming oak

leaves

and bunches of red maple

leaves, like a

blaze of country road.

As

it

grew

closer to

Christmas the displays

pots

in the flower shop

window changed. Mossy

IM
it?

'4 iB?'
*i&P

k %
*w

of dark green ivy filled the

window,

ivy

and

philodendron and giant poinsettia plants whose

leaves looked like the red petals of a flower.

Some

small bushy pines stood in white tubs in front

of the store,

and

inside

on the

floor

and on the
there were

walk outside the

piles of cut trees

florist's

window,
forest far

from some

away. There

were spruce and pine, small ones and big ones,

with their branches trussed together
to save space.

When

Mr. Crockett passed the

store

on the

way home from work each night

smell enfolded him, as
if

the strong pine

he were walking

through a pine forest instead of

city street.

down

a cold

Long

boxes were

filled

with holly and

mistletoe, the red holly berries

and milky white

mistletoe berries glowing against green leaves.

Mr. Crockett's neighbors bought bunches of holly

and

mistletoe,

and many of the Christmas

telling

trees

were marked with white tags

who had
the trees

bought them and when they were

In some of the brownstone

to be delivered.

windows

already stood shimmering with their Christmas

decorations.

The

neighbors clucked to see Mr.

Crockett trudging

home from work

each night

looking happily at their trees as he passed.

The day

before Christmas Mr. Crockett

stopped as usual to look in the flower store win-

dow. There were many lovely

store.

trees left in the

There were

still

pots of poinsettia

and dark
Jeru-

green ivy with bright red bows, and

little

salem cherry plants and pots of white and red

cyclamen. There were
still

white wooden pots

pines.

with

little

growing bushy

Mr. Crockett
air

stood staring into the store.

cold.

The

was very
as

His breath steamed in front of him

trees

he

looked at the flowers and leaves and

the incandescent store light.
It

under

was almost

Chrismas Eve. Then

off in a

dark corner of the

a

shop he saw one white wooden tub with

wizened
little

plant in
Its

it.

The

plant was a scrubby

dark small pine.

branches drooped and dry

it

needles had fallen around

onto the black and

floor.

white linoleum flower store

It

was

true,

as

the neighbors

said

of

Mr.

Crockett, that he was a gnarled

gnome

of a

man.

He was
grey and
beard.

short

and had shaggy grey and brown

eyes.

eyebrows and large black

He had

curly

brown

hair

and a curly grey and brown

Some
the

people would say he was not a hand-

some man.

And
some

little

scrubby pine was not a hand-

plant.

Mr. Crockett couldn't help imagining how

it

would

feel
all

to be

that small

misshapen

tree

amongst

the straight healthy bristling dark

green pines.

He
in.

opened the door

bell

to the

shop and walked

fragrance of
air en-

tinkled overhead.

The

the pines

and the warm flower-scented

folded him.

He

took a deep breath.

the back of the shop.
there.
I

The

florist

came from

Mr. Crockett was the only customer

"Good
for

evening,

sir,"

he

said,

"What can

do

you?"

Mr. Crockett stood there looking, with

grey and

his

brown

curly beard

and large black

eyes, as out of season in the store as the small

almost bare tree in the corner.

Mr. Crockett stared

at the little tree.

"A
gested.

nice

poinsettia

plant?"

the

florist

sug-

"We

have some beauties."

his

Mr. Crockett shook

head no but before

he could speak the flowerman went on,

ted spruce?
left."

"A

pot-

We

have some lovely

little trees still

And
it

he picked up one of the bushy pines

out for Mr. Crockett to
see.

and held
"It's

very fine," said Mr. Crockett smiling,

I

"but the plant

corner."

want

is

that

little

one in the

<.&*#%?

"That one!"
never be

said the flowerman.

"That

will
little

much
the

good. Here

is

handsome

tree that will flourish."

"It's
little

one in the corner

want," Mr.

Crockett repeated. His voice was low but firm.

The flowerman shook

of a

his head.

This gnome

man must

be mad, he thought, and decided

not to argue. All he said was, "You're sure?"

"Quite sure," said Mr. Crockett.

The

flower-

man

brought the pine over. Mr. Crockett touched

the almost bare branches.

He

touched them

gently like a doctor pressing to find the pain.

Shaking
pot and put

his
it

head the flowerman

lifted

the

into

Mr. Crockett's arms.

you for
it.

"I can't really charge

It's

ugly."

Mr. Crockett smiled.

"I

want
I

to

pay for

it,"

he

said.

"You know
is still

when
true."

was

a boy, there

was

a saying that

"What's

that, sir," said the

flowerman count-

ing out Mr. Crockett's change.

"Beauty

is

as

beauty does," said Mr. Crockett.

The

bell tinkled

overhead as he opened the door

to leave.

Alone in the

store the

flowerman shrugged.
if

He'd have shrugged even more

he had

heard Mr. Crockett talking to the tree as he

walked along.

"You need sun," he

just

told the tree,

"and

have

the

window

for you.
tree

Sun and water," he

said as

though the

could hear him, "and next

spring we'll put you in the ground."

**&?

Mr. Crockett knew

need
love.

a secret.

Living things

That night the snow began to fall. On Christmas day when the neighbors went to church
they glanced at each beautifully decorated tree

standing in the

window

of each brownstone.

When
was

they passed Mr. Crockett's house there

a white

wooden pot

in the

window with

a stick of a tree, crooked

needles.

and almost without

He

hadn't even put an ornament on

the tree.

"Awful!" they

said.

When

the carolers

who

sang on Christmas

afternoon came by, they didn't stop in front of

Mr. Crockett's house.

He

stood behind his shiny

windows and watched

where
else.
is

as

they stopped every-

"Beauty

as beauty does,"

he said sadly.

The
the trees

winter passed.

The

days grew longer.

The
to

birds that flew south in the winter

came back

and began,

like the birds

who

weathered

the winter

on the

street, to

build their nests.

o
a

ne spring evening Mr. Crockett came out

again with his spading-fork.

He

loosened the

earth in front of his house once more.

He dug
Then
white
pine
its

deep wide hole and

filled

it

with water.

he brought out the

stick of a tree in

wooden

tub.

Carefully he lifted the

set it

little

out of the tub and

gently in the hole.

Then
it

he emptied another pan of water around

so

the roots floated comfortably into position. Mr.

Crockett packed the earth

the
little

down
its

all

around

until

pine stood firm in

new home.

The

neighbors were shocked.

at that stick he's planted out front,"

"Look
they said.

"What

a disgrace!"

They

didn't

know
work
the

Mr. Crockett's

secret.

Every day when Mr. Crockett was

the soft spring sunlight beat

at

down warming
it.

ground and the

little

pine planted in

Every night when Mr. Crockett came home,

he watered the pine carefully and then

sat

out

on the stoop near

it

while the sun went down.

street

He would

watch the children on the

playing hopscotch or jumprope.

He

smiled at

4m

them but
back. His

the children

had been

told to stay
little

way

from Mr. Crockett and only one

boy smiled

name was David and he

liked the

way

Mr. Crockett smiled.

He

liked the thorough slow

way Mr. Crockett

cleaned his

windows and
his tree

stoop.

He

liked to see

him watering

and reach-

ing over to pat the trunk.

Mr. Crockett
after evening.

sat

alone on his stoop evening

He watched

the children.

He

watched

his fashionable

neighbors

by without saying good evening.

who passed And when it

the
little

was dark he went

under the

inside

and

left

tree

city stars for the night.

Early one evening sitting on the stoop Mr.

Crockett noticed a small sparrow hopping about
near his pine.
It

pecked, searching the ground,

but there was nothing there.

The

next night Mr.

Crockett brought out a small brown bag of bread

crumbs and sprinkled them around

his tree.

The

neighbors watched him.

"He

acts like

an old farmer.
borhood."

He

runs

down

the whole neigh-

But
sign.

if

Mr. Crockett heard them he gave no

The
sun beat

spring grew into

summer and

the hot

down on

the

little tree.

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Every night when Mr. Crockett came home

from work he watered the

kled bread crumbs around

little
it

pine,
sat

and

sprin-

and

out on his

stoop to watch the birds until the sun

went down.

Not only
as well

the

summer
to feed

birds but the winter ones

his tree.

came

under

The summer passed. The wind blew in from

smell of autumn.

the country with

its

The

flower store had

its

display of gold

and

red leaves and yellow chrysanthemums.

More

needles

fell off

the

little

pine and blew

down

the street in the wind. Mr. Crockett put

hay in a

mound around
stuff,"

its

base to keep

it

warm

for the winter.

"Farmer

the neighbors

fumed when
little

they saw what he was doing. "That

ruins our whole street."

man

he
white.
It

first

snow came and

it

powdered the

street

It

covered the steps of the brownstones.

little

clung to the branches of Mr. Crockett's

pine.

But the hay kept the

a cold

tree's roots

warm.

It

was
trees

hard winter and some of the bigger

street suffered

along the

from the storms.

trees.

The

neighbors hadn't protected their

Hay

was not

elegant.
their heads

They wagged
under

when

they saw Mr.

Crockett sprinkling bread crumbs in the snow

his pine for the birds to eat.
birds.

They

didn't

worry about the

Most

of the songbirds

had flown south

birds remained.

for the winter.

But the winter

And Mr.

Crockett had food for

them.

"That old man and

neighbors
said.

his

bag of crumbs," the

But the children saw that every

at

day when Mr. Crockett was

work, the spar-

rows came

like little black

inkdrops and fed and

little

chirped at the foot of the bleak

pine.

PPM

On

Sundays Mr. Crockett saw them,

too.

One

Sunday he saw
of blood in the the sparrows.

a bright red cardinal like a spot

snow sharing

the

crumbs with

And

another Sunday afternoon he

saw
It

a large bluejay join the birds

under the

tree.

looked like a patch of sky against the white

snow. Along with the crumbs Mr. Crockett be-

gan bringing peanuts

for the jays

and pumpkin
stand at his

seeds for the cardinals.

He would

window

to see the birds

felt less

feeding in front of his

house, and he

lonely than before.

.t

last

the winter

stronger.

The

days

The sun grew were longer. The smell of

was
over.

spring blew in on the soft country wind.

Mr. Crockett took away the hay.

The
tice.

little

tree

was covered with

clusters of

blue-green needles. But the neighbors didn't no-

They

didn't notice

that

their

own

trees

weren't quite as full and leafy as they used to be,

and

that there

were not
trees.

so

many

birds in the

branches of their
the sparrows

They

didn't see that with

came

iridescent grackles

and red
a large

cardinals with their orange brides

and

white mourning dove,

Crockett put out.

all

to eat the food

Mr.

And

the

little

pine's blue-tipped

branches fanned out into dark green needles and

made

shadow

like

an etching on the white

stoop of Mr. Crockett's house.

They
taller

didn't notice that the pine

was growing

and

that everything about his brownstone

shone clean and cared for while slowly their

own

houses were losing some of the elegance they

liked.

A few of the more elegant neighbors moved

of the children noticed

away.

Some
tree.

Mr. Crockett's
stop

Especially David.

He would

on

his

way

home from

school and look at the unusual birds

at the foot of the tree.

hopping around

Some

evenings David came and sat next to Mr. Crockett.

They'd

sit

talking, or just listening to the city

sounds and feeling the coolness that finally comes

when
.he

the hot

summer day
passed.

edges into night.

And fall came. And fall passed and winter came. And several years went by. Most of the birds came now to Mr. Crockett's
summer
tree.

They sang

in

its

branches

all

day.

They

slept in the

branches

at

night and they fed in

the bright green grass at the foot of the pine

where Mr. Crockett put out food

for

them every

morning before he went

to

work.

Even

the neighbors couldn't help noticing.

surprised,
live things

They were
understand that

for

they

still

didn't
tree

need

love.

The

was quite

tall

and

as the

summers

passed, the

shade of the pine

made Mr.

Crockett's house cool

it

and

beautiful. In the winter

stood green

when

the other trees were bare, loud with songs of

lii

li-ij

birds

when
of a

the other trees were quiet.

still a

Mr. Crockett was

strange looking

gnome

man. His long curly hair was white

his

now. His curly beard was white and

shaggy

eyebrows were white. But his large black eyes

were the same

he
first

as they

had been long ago when and everyone had

moved
at

to the street

frowned

him.
secret," the

"He must have some

neighbors

admitted grudgingly. Only David

who was grow-

ing up had guessed what the secret was.

seen the good things Mr. Crockett did.

He

had

a Christmas

Eve

years after

Mr. Crockett
his tree,
it

had moved
began
to

into the street

It

and bought
all

snow.

snowed

night, covering the

steps of the brownstones. It covered

Mr. Crockett's

house,

it

clung to the beautiful branches of Mr.

Crockett's strong pine.

On
birds

noon
to

of Christmas

Day, Mr. Crockett

went out

put

down

food for the birds.

The

were waiting, the grackles and bluejays and

doves and sparrows and chicka-

cardinals, the
dees.

They
seeds

stood

on the

crust of the snow, pecking

and hopping and

in circles of color, feasting

on nuts

and crumbs.

And when it stopped snowing the white world sparkled like crystal. Down the street came the
carolers.

In front of each brownstone they sang

their songs.

Their voices rang out clear and sweet

in the cold

air.

When they came

to

Mr. Crockett's

house, David stopped them.

"We'll sing here, too," he said.

And

they

sang. Their voices beginning so suddenly, startled

the birds under the pine.

With

a lovely flacking

sound the birds

the sky

circled

around and around against

looked up to watch
slowly,

and

as the carolers

them they

recircled lower

and lower, and

each bird resettled on the branches of the pine.

At

the very top of the tree one white dove

lit,

and the other birds with

feathers,

their beautiful colored

spaced in the needles and branches,

looked like living ornaments.

The
tree

carolers

watched spellbound.

It

was

like

a Christmas festival, the full green snow- tipped

trimmed with

birds nestling in the branches sighed. Together they

"Ohhhhhhhhh," they

took a deep breath and began singing one of the

most beautiful Christmas songs of

voices

all,

and

their

low and sweet made the birds themselves

begin to sing from the branches of the pine.

Mr. Crockett standing behind

his

shining

window
ers

upstairs listened to their singing, carol-

and

birds together. It

was a chorus
is

of love

and Mr. Crockett knew

that this

what

Christ-

mas

is

meant

to be.

BOSTON PUBLIC LIBRARY

3 9999 01039 373 2

Boston Public Library

HYDE PARK BRANCH LIBRARY

%.

The Date Due Card

in the pocket indi-

cates the date on or before

which

this

book should be returned

to the Library.

Please do not remove cards from this

pocket.

pMiaiiiinnnmwnnwnnfi

CHARLOTTE ZOLOTOW
young
children.

is

one of

America's best-loved writers for

Of her many
girls,

published books for boys and

among the most well-known are The Bunny Who Found Easter, The S\y Was Blue, The White Marble,
Mr. Rabbit and the Lovely Present,

The Man with Purple

lives in

Eyes.

The author

an old house
is

in Hastings-

on-Hudson and

the mother of a son

and daughter, now married. She

loves to garden, read,
theatre,

and go
is

to the

and

at present

senior

editor in the Junior

Books Department

of

Harper & Row.

RUTH ROBBINS enjoys writing

and
are
illustrating children's books.

Among those
Fisherman
s

she has illustrated

A Penny and A Periwinkle,

Luc\, Stories California
Is hi

Indians Told,

Last of His Tribe,

and she

is

the author

and

illustrator

of Taliesin

and King Arthur.

Besides writing and illustrating

books for young people Ruth Robbins

devotes her time to designing books

and directing theni through

production. She lives in Berkeley,
California with her husband

Herman

Schein, book publisher, and

has one son Steven.

am

Parnassus
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Lithographed in U.S.A. by Kaiser Graphic Arts