CALIFORNIA ALBUM : Out on a Limb : A protester perched 50 feet up in a tree to save it from builders symbolizes the clash over preserving Antioch’s roots.

For eight days and eight nights William LeRoy has perched in a precarious roost, 50 feet up amid the creaky limbs of a century-old eucalyptus. Draped in a slicker, he has weathered lightning, thunder, stiff winds and relentless rain--all in an effort to save the shaggy tree, which officials say must go to make way for a senior citizen housing project.

When LeRoy first took up his post, police figured they’d wait him out; sooner or later, they reasoned, the tree-sitter would get cold, hungry, bored or worn out.

Instead, his vigil stretched on--and a movement took shape. A struggling artist of scant renown, LeRoy has abruptly become a local celebrity whose resolve and risky defense of a principle have captivated this historic city on the Sacramento River Delta.

Not everyone endorses his crusade, mind you. Some roll their eyes, while others are hotly critical, noting that his antics have cost the city money and held up a worthy project that Antioch’s elderly desperately need. Occasionally, a motorist passing the tree will jeer and yell, “Chop it down!”

But mostly, it seems, the bearded, 39-year-old “tree man” has won support. Petitions backing his stance have been signed by about 900 residents, and supporters have telephoned the office of vice president and environment champion Al Gore for help, conducted prayer services at the tree’s base and held noisy rallies to keep LeRoy’s spirits up.

A cadre of about 10 loyalists, meanwhile, have taken time off from their jobs to lobby authorities and provide their hero with food, water and clothing--supplies he hauls up to his nest with a rope.

Sounding weary in a walkie-talkie interview, LeRoy said he was spurred to act because the tree is “a beautiful symbol of old Antioch”--the aging but unique neighborhoods that some residents feel have been neglected by local politicians in favor of new subdivisions and strip malls.

The aptly named Julie DeForest joined the cause with similar motivations: “This rebellion really goes way beyond this one tree,” she said. “There’s a sense that the historic parts of our town are in danger.”

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Antioch was founded in 1849 by twin brothers from Boston, ministers who named it for the Syrian city where Christ’s followers were first called Christians. Set on the sloping southern bank of the San Joaquin River, the settlement began life as a shipping port for the vegetables, grapes and almonds produced in the fertile region.

Canneries, paper mills, steel factories and chemical plants came later, and until recently, Antioch was a blue-collar city whose residents mostly labored in the heavy industries in town.

High housing prices elsewhere in the Bay Area, however, have given Antioch a new mission--as a bedroom community for commuters who work in cities as distant as San Francisco, located 45 traffic-congested miles away. In 1970, the population was just 28,000. Now, it’s close to 70,000.

The growth has essentially created two Antiochs--a new one south of California 4 and the old one across the freeway, clustered around downtown.

The new Antioch looks like most suburbs--neat rows of new rooftops and shopping centers offering just about everything a young family needs.

As for old Antioch, city officials have spruced up the commercial district with brick crossings and old-fashioned street lamps, but business is slow and efforts to revive the waterfront have sputtered.

All this disturbs truck driver Mike Schuler, who lives downtown: “The old, original parts of Antioch are dying and nobody could care less.”

The eucalyptus is in old Antioch, and as he gazed up into its branches one afternoon this week, Schuler remembered sitting beneath it as a teen-ager on many a Friday night. Ninety feet tall, the tree now shades a block-square lot that once was the site of a Catholic church and later a community garden. Now, the property stands empty, awaiting 82 units of housing for low-income elderly people, a joint project of the city and the Contra Costa County Housing Authority.

LeRoy lives just up the block, and when he learned of the plan to ax the old tree, he complained to City Hall. The eucalyptus is taller and older than most everything else in Antioch, he argued, and besides that it produces oxygen and provides a home for birds.

City Council members were sympathetic, but said they had no choice. An arborist had warned that construction of an underground parking garage for the project would damage the tree’s roots, making it a threat to fall on the street or homes.

“We all wanted to save it, because it’s a very visible, dramatic part of downtown,” Antioch Mayor Joel Keller said. “But in terms of safety, it was a risk we couldn’t take.”

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And so Will LeRoy scrambled up the tree in the pre-dawn darkness of Feb. 16. He took a flashlight, some food, a book by John Muir and a sketch pad. A neighbor, Ellen Pillisi, 51, joined the vigil by parking her wheelchair at the base of the tree, but she later retreated to press legal aspects of the fight.

At first, things looked bleak for LeRoy. Security guards, hoping to dampen his enthusiasm, temporarily blocked supporters from sending food and rain gear up the tree. The elements--and LeRoy’s inability to sleep or move about--took a toll.

His determination, however, has not wavered, and over the weekend, the county supervisor whose district includes Antioch ordered the food shipments to resume. Supervisor Tom Torlakson also called in professional mediators to try to sort things out. It is his hope that a “win-win solution” is not far off.

“I think we can come up with a way to thin the tree out and secure it so there won’t be a danger,” said Torlakson. One problem, however, is where to get the $25,000 to $45,000 such measures would cost.

Mayor Keller is standing by, trying to be patient. Truth be told, he’s a bit conflicted over the whole affair. The senior citizens of his city badly need housing, and he’s had angry calls from constituents wondering why he doesn’t just roust the blasted tree-sitter and bring this ruckus to an end.

But LeRoy’s actions have, in a way, made the mayor a bit nostalgic.

“You know, I went to Cal in the ‘60s,” Keller said. “So I’m familiar with his methods, and the rebel side of me appreciates someone who puts out an effort for what he believes in.”