From Yangtze to Your Garden: The Extraordinary Life of Frank Nicholas Meyer

May 28, 1918

On this day, the intrepid Dutch-American botanist and USDA Plant Explorer, Frank Nicholas Meyer, embarked upon his final journey. With a heavy heart and weary bones, Frank boarded a steamer and set sail down the mighty Yangtze River, commencing what was to be his long-awaited return to America.

Alas, fate had other plans for our dear Frank.

Days after his departure, his lifeless body was discovered floating in the very waters that were to carry him home. To this day, the circumstances surrounding his demise remain shrouded in mystery, an enigma that continues to perplex botanists and historians alike.

In his final correspondence, Frank's words painted a portrait of a man burdened by the weight of his calling. He spoke of loneliness, a pervasive melancholy, and a bone-deep exhaustion.

"Heavier and heavier," he lamented, describing the responsibilities that seemed to press upon his shoulders with each passing day.

Yet, let us not dwell solely on the somber end of Frank's tale. For in life, he was a most fascinating character, one whose passion for flora far exceeded his enthusiasm for his fellow man.

In his early years, Frank was known as something of a rambler, a solitary soul who found more comfort in the company of plants than people. He was even known to bestow names upon his leafy companions and engage them in spirited conversation.

In a moment of candor, Frank once confessed to a friend in a letter dated October 11, 1901:

"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."

It was the keen eye of the great David Fairchild that recognized the dormant potential within Frank, seeing in him a worthy successor to continue his own illustrious work. And so, our Frank set forth to China, a land that would both dazzle and challenge him in equal measure.

Upon setting foot in the Middle Kingdom, Frank found himself utterly overwhelmed by its vastness and the richness of its plant life. A believer in reincarnation, he mused in a letter to David Fairchild in May 1907:

"[One] short life will never be long enough to find out all about this mighty land. When I think about all these unexplored areas, I get fairly dazzled... I will have to roam around in my next life."

But make no mistake, dear gardener, for Frank's explorations were far from a leisurely stroll through exotic gardens. Edward B. Clark, writing in Technical World in July 1911, painted a vivid picture of the perils Frank faced:

"Frank has frozen and melted alternately as the altitudes have changed. He has encountered wild beasts and men nearly as wild. He has scaled glaciers and crossed chasms of dizzying depths. He has been the subject of the always-alert suspicions of government officials and strange people's - jealous of intrusions into their land, but he has found what he was sent for."

Indeed, Frank's resilience and determination were legendary. Unlike many of his contemporaries who were carried about in sedan chairs, Frank preferred to traverse the land on foot, covering tens of miles each day. This remarkable stamina allowed him to access the most treacherous and inaccessible parts of interior Asia, including China, Korea, Manchuria, and Russia.

The fruits of Frank's labor are now quite literally the fruits in our gardens and on our tables. Over the course of his career, he sent more than 2,000 seeds or cuttings of fruits, grains, plants, and trees to the United States. His legacy lives on in the Korean Lilac, soybeans, asparagus, Chinese horse chestnut, water chestnut, oats, wild pears, Ginkgo biloba, and persimmons that now grace our lands.

But perhaps Frank's most enduring gift to us is a certain citrus fruit he discovered near Peking, nestled in the doorway of a family home. The Meyer Lemon, believed to be a hybrid of standard lemons and mandarin oranges, stands as a sweet and tangy testament to Frank's tireless work.

And so, as we remember Frank Nicholas Meyer on this day, let us raise a glass of lemonade (Meyer, of course) to the man who walked thousands of miles so that our gardens might flourish.

May his spirit of adventure and love for the natural world continue to inspire botanists and garden enthusiasts for generations to come.