Getting Lemons: a man, a mission, and the menace of melancholy

Image: Bowl with Meyer Lemons. Photo by Lisa M. Careau

The proliferation of food in the United States wasn't achieved as soon as or even shortly after Europeans first set foot here over four centuries ago. In fact, one of the greatest impediments settlers faced in establishing permanent colonies was food insecurity, a situation that was initially perpetuated by a limited growing season, unsuccessful foraging and hunting forays, and the sparse arrival of supply ships. Essentially, starvation was often just a day away. In Jamestown, the first permanent English settlement in the New World, a particularly grim period known as Starving Time (1609-10) was caused by a confluence of several deprivations that ultimately resulted in cannibalism among the inhabitants. A decade later, at Plymouth Plantation, starvation would have surely overtaken the remaining Pilgrims had it not been for the timely appearance of Tisquantum on the scene in the spring of 1621; he taught them how to survive in the wilderness, or what he called home. It took not only decades but actually centuries before food was widely available to the general public, and even then, the American diet was starkly limited.

Image: "The landing of the Pilgrims, on Plymouth Rock, Dec. 11th 1620." Sarony & Major, c1846. Prints and Photographs Division, Library of Congress.

That is, until one effort, aimed at expanding America's food supply and its choices, was initiated by the United States Department of Agriculture in 1898. With the expansion of the great western plains, the USDA sought to accomplish this goal by introducing drought resistant agriculture to the American table. Through its Office of Seed and Plant Introduction, men, called plant explorers, were dispatched the world over to track down new seeds and plants for eventual distribution across the US.

One such plant explorer was Frank N. Meyer (1875-1918), a Dutch-American botanist. Meyer single handedly introduced 2,500 plant varieties, which widely expanded both the nation's diet and the American agricultural industry; the selections included alfalfa, sorghum, and many collections of stone fruits, nuts and citrus, to name just a few. Meyer is regarded as one of the most prolific food introducers in the world, and as such, his life story is nothing short of intrepid as he faced colossal obstacles—the greatest of all lurking within himself, and, just like the lemons he introduced (and which bear his name), Frank Meyer's life ended abruptly on a rather sour note.

Frans Nicolaas Meijer was born into a loving family of modest means in Amsterdam in 1875. He was a quiet, serious child who took an interest in the natural world from an early age. He fortuitously began his education at the Hortus Botanicus, one of the world's oldest botanical gardens, as a young teenager. There he met the renowned botanist and geneticist, Hugo de Vries, the institution's director, who recognized young Frans's aptitude. Under his guidance, Frans, who was initially hired as a gardener's assistant, learned to speak English and French, attended lectures, and quickly rose through the ranks, ultimately achieving the position of head experimental gardener several years later.

In 1900, with a letter of recommendation from de Vries, Frans left his home, and traveled solo throughout much of western Europe, visiting notable gardens he had learned about during his time in Leiden.

Image: Frank Meyer at 23 years old, before leaving his homeland. Photo courtesy of De Arde en haar Volken, Amsterdam, Holland. From the Library of Congress collections, Washington, D.C.

Eventually, after visiting London's famous gardens he decided to emigrate to the United States in 1901. Once he arrived, his extraordinary wanderlust and curiosity compelled him to tour much of the central and western regions of the US as well as Mexico (primarily on foot), sporadically securing temporary work in commercial nurseries to fund his travels. That year he wrote to a friend, "I am pessimistic by nature, and have not found a road which leads to relaxation. I withdraw from humanity and try to find relaxation with plants."

All along the way Frans made professional connections and developed contacts. This eventually led him to begin working in Washington, DC, for the USDA in the plant pathology section. A year later, in 1902, he was dispatched to the Plant Introduction Station in Santa Ana, CA, where he worked until transferring over to the Office of Seed and Plant Introduction in 1905. It was there that fate met destiny. Botanist, David Fairchild, who oversaw Frans's department, asked him to consider becoming a plant explorer. Fairchild, who had spent more than a decade in the field had recently married Marian Bell (younger daughter of Alexander Graham Bell), and was looking to settle down to a greater extent. For Meyer, who by nature was a loner, wanderer, and lover of the natural world—all qualities required of a plant explorer, this proposal was the perfect opportunity, and so he readily agreed to it.

Image: "Meyer (R) and Fairchild (L)" , Special Collections, USDA National Agriculture Library.

For his part, Frans was expected to essentially walk across east Asia, obtaining information and securing samples concerning hardy, drought resistant plants indigenous to the area (this included all citrus, which was first cultivated in Asia). These expeditions typically didn't last weeks or months, but rather years (on average about two to three). And so, after the necessary arrangements were made, Frans left the US, and arrived in Peking (Beijing) in September of 1905. Accompanied by only a guide, interpreter, and a couple of porters, Frans collected plants and seeds for the USDA for the next two and a half years. This expedition took him to Ming Tombs Valley, Mongolia, Manchuria, Korea and Siberia, and it would be the first of four successful expeditions spanning the next 13 years.

Image: Photograph of Frank Meyer and his party in China (USDA National Agricultural Library)

Throughout these expeditions Frans and his entourage suffered great physical deprivations not only due to the harsh and rugged environment (many times they explored locations so remote there were no roads), but also the many run-ins with raiding marauders, and countless wild animal encounters that included bears, tigers, and wolves. They were further tormented by swells of unrelenting insects, both outside, and indoors (bedbugs, and lice), if the typically sparse guest house was willing to accommodate them; oftentimes, Frans was the first Caucasian the innkeepers had ever seen, and his countenance terrified them, with some actually believing he was the devil!

Image: In Turkestan, Frank Meyer photographed his party at 9,000 feet. From left, guard, interpreter, teamster, and handyman. (Harvard Arnold Arboretum Archives)

Countless times he and his group almost lost their lives to the unrelenting and unpredictable perils they encountered, whether it be traveling over snow covered mountaintops in a raging storm, or waking to a bandit's knife pressed against their throats. Still, despite these difficulties, Frans pushed on through it all, even though some members of his party dropped out of the expedition, utterly overwhelmed. Frans' indomitable zeal, on the other hand, was almost maniacal. Undaunted, Frans drew strength and courage from nature's majestic grandeur before him, writing that "fear and wrong disappear in such surroundings."

Image: Johannis de Leuw (L), Meyer's Dutch-born assistant who was present for all four expeditions, and, Meyer (R). Meyer wrote, "we fought with our fists, a walking-stick, and a rifle". Photo caption: “Together we stand or fall,” (Meyer), February 6, 1915.

Photo source unknown.

Frans also delighted in the Asian people and their culture. He spent days and weeks at a time living amongst them, and observed that they were ingenious farmers and master gardeners. While near Beijing, Frans happened to spot a potted plant in a residential doorway that bore small citrus fruit. The owner explained to him that the plant was used for just ornamental purposes. Nonetheless, Frans sampled the fruit and realized it tasted less acidic than a traditional lemon but more tart than an orange. Further, its peel and pith were thinner than a standard lemon, and the pulp was exceptionally juicy. Encouraged by his finding, he sent cuttings of what was to eventually be known as the Meyer lemon, back to the US where it was initially grown in California. Its circuitous route went from there to citrus growing hubs such as Florida, and Texas, where the fruit was eventually widely grown and popular.

A few decades later, during the 1940s it was discovered that the majority of Meyer lemon trees being used for cloning purposes were symptomless carriers of the Citrus tristeza virus, which had decimated millions of citrus trees worldwide. This finding led to the destruction of most Meyer lemon trees, and the plant was all but forgotten. But then, in the 1950s, a couple of scientists began to develop a new selection that was virus-free, and by 1975 the plant was finally approved for mass distribution. Once again, it gained popularity over the ensuing years as various celebrity chefs and personalities, like Gordon Ramsay and Martha Stewart, featured the Meyer lemon in their recipes.

Image: in 2018 the USPS released this two cent stamp featuring the Meyer lemon. Design by Derry Noyes, illustration (pen and ink and water color) by John Burgoyne.

But, long before all that was to unfold, Frans found himself at the apex of his career as his first successful expedition concluded in 1908. During that time span, he had managed to track down and send to the US: Chinese persimmon, Diospyros lotus, Chinese juniper, the Chinese horse-chestnut tree, and the Ginkgo Biloba tree—he was the first westerner to track down a gingko biloba (thought to be extinct), which he initially discovered growing wild in a remote forest. In addition, he collected and sent back thousands of seeds from a large variety of Chinese vegetable crops. He also personally photographed the vegetation he found, documenting it all in great detail.

Image: Gingko Biloba, photo by Frank Meyer (Harvard Arnold Arboretum)

He went to great pains properly packing up his samples, ensuring the collections would arrive in good condition after their lengthy overseas journey. To his great consternation, sometimes the plants he forwarded ended up dying either enroute or after arriving at the US station, often due to neglect. This outcome left him enraged, not only for the tremendous ends he had gone to in securing the specimens, but also for the dead plants, themselves. His passion for nature left him devastated when it was carelessly placed in peril or neglected, in both large or small ways.

Image: A Chinese cart loaded with boxes of seeds, mostly wild peach stones and chestnuts, leaving Frank Meyer’s hotel enroute to America. (Harvard Arnold Arboretum)

Upon his return to the US, Frans now regarded himself as an American, and made it official by becoming a naturalized US citizen; he anglicized his name to Frank N. Meyer as he was henceforth known. It wasn't long, though, before he was back in the field for his second tour in 1909. Frank and his small group traipsed through the Crimea, Azerbaijan, Armenia, Turkmenistan, and Chinese Turkestan (Xinjiang), collecting numerous specimens along the way. The aggregation was shipped to both the USDA, and Harvard's Arnold Arboretum (specifically the tree and shrub collections). Accompanying the samples were Meyer's distinct photos and detailed plant identification. Meyer always found this task to be particularly tedious, and he minded that it kept him from his field work, but he also understood its intrinsic value and so he persevered. These photos were not noted for their artistic flare, but rather for the straightforward images they revealed.

Image: Cake of millet and jujubes, photo by Frank L. Meyer, 1915. (Harvard Arnold Arboretum)

Image: A sample of Meyer's photography with notation. Soya Max. "The five pots are filled with broken soy bean cake from which a cheap sauce is made; the pots wholly contain vinegar which is made here from wheat and millet bran. Great heat and great cold are both detrimental to the good quality of both sauce and vinegar, there for the best products are obtained in both spring and fall." (Meyer). 1917-05-05. Special Collections, USDA National Agriculture Library.

In 1911, the Meyer party moved along the border of Mongolia and Siberia where oats, wild pears, asparagus, and many varieties of oil-bearing soybeans were collected. Eventually, the group ended up in St. Petersburg where Frank turned to head back home via western Europe. He boarded the RMS Mauretania on April 9, 1912 in Southampton, England, just a day before the Titanic's maiden and tragic voyage.

Within several months he returned to Asia a third time on behalf of the USDA Division of Forest Pathology to investigate if the origin of the Chestnut blight could be traced to Asia. His research into the matter confirmed that the blight did indeed develop in China. Even though he had fulfilled the mission, he decided to continue exploring around the Gansu province and Tibetan borderlands for the next two years, sending back the plants, scions and seeds he located.

Image: Frank Meyer’s caravan crossed such landforms as this one in northwest China's Gansu Province. Photo source, Wang Song, for Xinhua Press.

The time between this third expedition and his fourth found Frank growing increasingly disillusioned. The loneliness and hardships that had besieged him throughout these journeys were beginning to take a toll on his mental health, as was the political unrest going on around him and worldwide; the outbreak of the Great War in 1914 had a profound affect upon him and at times he became despondent. He believed the world was unraveling when actually it was he who was coming apart. Around this time, an incident occurred involving Meyer and two members of his party in the remote village of Siku. Apparently enraged at his laborers, angry words were exchanged, and Meyer threw each of them down a flight of stairs. The matter went before a local magistrate whereby the intervention of Reginald Farrar, a fellow plant hunter, on Meyer's behalf led to his acquittal. Shortly thereafter, Meyer returned to the US in late 1915 for a brief period.

In mid-1916, Frank would take his final trip to Asia for the specific objective of collecting wild pears, the only known type resistant to fire blight (Bacillus amylovrus), which had devastated the pear industry. He was able to send back 10,000 Callery pears to the US. By early 1917 Meyer had made his way to Yichang where he found himself anchored for the entire winter, trapped by civil unrest. During this time of conflict, the Great War remained a source of emotional distress to Frank, who wrote to Fairchild, “"A dark cloud hangs over all humanity".

Image: Persimmons and pears in a Beijing market, photographed by Frank Meyer (Harvard Arnold Arboretum)

After 13 years in the field, he found himself frightfully weary of the challenges—challenges he had once enthusiastically embraced. He also struggled to square the immense difficulties he endured with the unknown value of his contributions, again, writing to Fairchild that he felt unsettled, blaming "this never-ending, horrible war" for "making me feel like a ship adrift." At this point Meyer was no longer able to eat or sleep very much, and admitted he was greatly suffering from "nervous prostration". He made the decision this tour would be his final expedition, and intended to officially notify his superiors when he arrived back in the states.

In May 1918, Meyer and his guide finally were able to find their way back to Jingmen where he packed up his belongings in anticipation of his return home. He boarded the Japanese riverboat Feng Yang Maru, on May 28, which was headed to Shanghai, via the Yangtze River. On June 1st, he mentioned experiencing some stomach trouble earlier in the day, and then later that evening he was observed exiting his cabin around 11:20. When he was reported missing the following day, the crew searched in and around the boat for Meyer, but to no avail. On June 5, Meyer's bloated body was found by a Chinese sailor floating in the Yangtze River some 30 miles from the city of Wuhu. His face was unrecognizable but a representative of the USDA was able to identify him by his clothing.

Meyer's remains were buried in Shanghai at the Bubbling Well Cemetery on June 12, and his family in the Netherlands were notified of his death on June 18. Fairchild wrote to Meyer's father that the thousands of plants his son had introduced had been propagated into hundreds of thousands of varieties, which were now scattered across America.

Image: The Bubbling Well Cemetery located in Shanghai, where Frank Meyers remains were interred. Today, Jing’an Park, a modern building complex covers the site, bearing no evidence of the cemetery's existence. Photo source unknown.

Because of the spare details it's impossible to determine what caused Meyer's death. Did he slip and fall? Did he jump? Was he pushed? We will never know. What we do known is that Meyer struggled with depression throughout most of his life. His letters to family and friends reveal that these torments evolved into despair, particularly in the last several months leading up to his death. He was so afflicted, in fact, he felt forced to leave the traveling life he seemed so particularly destined for.

Frank Meyer was a unique kind of human being who was plagued by an all too common affliction. In spite of it, he lived a life of great adventures. He was born in western Europe, moved to North America, and walked across Asia; that's where his life story ended. Frank Meyer (along with his accomplishments) slipped into historical obscurity, when, instead, he should have been forever lauded for the formidable gift he gave his country at the expense of his own prodigious life.

Before leaving on his first expedition Meyer wrote that he was “very happy at the thought of giving people many new plants and fruits from China.” Far beyond that musing Meyer achieved much greater things: he enriched our agricultural industry, expanded our botanical diversity, increased our economy, and discovered important scientific information that benefitted not just the US but the world. He plodded across thousands and thousands of dangerous, inhospitable miles, never allowing hardship or adversity to compromise his mission to "skim the earth in search of things good for man".

Image: Frank N. Meyer, Wu Tai Shan, Shansi, China, February 25, 1908, near the end of his first expedition. Frank N. Meyer Collection, National Agricultural Library, photographer/author unknown.

In our kitchens, around our yards, inside our neighborhoods there's evidence of Meyer's enduring legacy. The peaches, pistachios and spinach we enjoy are all thanks to him, as well as the poplar, elm, and willow trees we admire. Because he furnished new germplasm for the development of improved varieties of fruits, nuts, grains, fodder crops, shrubs, trees, and flowers, we enjoy an abundance and variety of plant life our ancestors could only dream about and pine for. Little did Frank Meyer know the fruits of his labors would be enjoyed for generations to come. Now you know.

Using a small bequest Meyer left to David Fairchild, the Frank Meyer Medal was established for “meritorious work in the field of plant introduction.” Henceforth, the medal has been awarded annually by the Crop Science Society of America. (Medal designed by Pat Scullion). Photo source unknown.

Commune with nature at the Arnold Aboretum of Harvard University