A RED, RED ROSE…RABBIE BURNS…AND LOST INCENTRAL PARK

Bob Shields

Just in case you’ve got this far through your Ayrshire Magazine and not twigged it yet – the theme for this first edition of 2025 is ‘romance’.

It’s based on the fact that January is the month we celebrate the birth of the Bard who poured his heart out in a plethora of romantic poems.

“Ae Fond Kiss” alone is an adoringly tender masterpiece.

Then on February 14th we have St Valentine’s Day.

Yes, it might now have been hi-jacked by the card shops, florists and chocolatiers, but it’s still the time of year for traditionally expressing your fondness and affection to those you love.

My brief was to write something with a “love is like a red, red rose” theme to it. And given some of the challenges handed down to me by editors over the years, this one – quite literally – is a walk in the park.

And I’m talking Central Park, New York!

An oasis of trees, lakes and pathways among the concrete canyons of Manhattan, I’ve visited its 843 acres many times.

In 2001, just weeks after the Twins Towers horror, I was there to witness an impromptu performance by kilted pipers from the Scots Guards. They had been invited to the Big Apple to play at the funerals of the many first responders, police officers and firefighters who lost their lives on that fateful September 11th.

And almost exactly a year later, I was back again… but this time it was my turn to wear the kilt.

I ran the 2002 New York City Marathon in our national dress – complete with a lightweight laminated sporran – and the finishing line was just inside the Park’s 59th Street entrance.

Although I’ve been back several times since, it would be another twenty years before I finally ticked a little box on a daft but personal bucket list.

I’d always wanted to place a red, red rose on Central Park’s statue of Robert Burns.
In the Big Apple there’s a ‘district’ for just about everything.

The Fashion District, the Diamond District, the Theatre District and the Meat Packing District to name but four. Flowers are no exception, and the ‘go to’ area is around West 28th Street between 6th and 7th Avenues.

But as I walked among the stalls and warehouses brimming with flowers of every shape and colour, I realised these were largely wholesale suppliers. This was like going to London’s Billingsgate Fish Market… and asking for a single sardine!

Eventually, I found one shop which seemed to specialise in roses – and they had hundreds of red ones in giant, grey metal vases. I picked the best looking one and marched up to the sales guy. Evidently, my sale wasn’t going to make his day.

“You want one bloom… one lousy bloom?” he rasped.

“I only need one…”

“Listen pal… you’re gonna need to take a bunch…”

I looked around and there must have been several hundred red roses on display. If I’d stolen one, he wouldn’t even have missed it.

“A red, red, rose… you ever heard of Rabbie Burns?” I ventured.

The sales guy shook his head.

“Rabbie Burns? Is he the guy at the Torah Synagogue up on thirtieth?”

It was my turn to shake my head.

There wasn’t a single price tag on any of the flowers on display. This was going to end up in a haggled deal… or me getting kicked out.

I fumbled in my jeans for some cash and pulled out a single bank note. All dollar bills are the same size in the USA – but the President’s faces printed on them are all different. You get to learn not to confuse a $100 Benjamin Franklin with a $1 George Washington.

I’d produced an Andrew Jackson – twenty bucks.

“Okay, okay – take the flower…” he relented, and popped President Jackson into his shirt pocket!
It was obvious I wasn’t getting any change… and I certainly wasn’t going to get it wrapped. It was time to go.

My wife was enjoying all the flowers and plants out on the sidewalk. I didn’t have the courage to tell her my single rose would cost more than our cab ride to Columbus Circle at Central Park South on 59th Street.

No trip to the Big Apple should be complete without a visit to Columbus Circle. Not that the statue of explorer Christopher in the centre is of any great merit – the enticement here is that the Circle is the only roundabout in the entire city… and for all I know, the whole state!

New York motorists avoid it… and the unsuspecting drivers from out of town haven’t a clue how to deal with it!

Watching giant trucks going endlessly round and round its five lanes – blasting their horns in frustration – is the real attraction!

It’s also the original “ground zero” in NYC. Columbus Circle is the “zero” point in all New York’s maps. If a road sign says “New York – 122 miles” – that’s the distance from that signpost to the ‘Magic Roundabout’ and Chris Columbus!

And finally – yes finally – we’re at Central Park. And as much as I love exploring, I didn’t fancy trekking its 842 acres before stumbling across Rabbie on the final 843rd.

I spotted a lady sporting a green ‘Central Park Conservancy’ jacket and badge and asked for directions.
“Robert Burns? Mmm… that’s a new one on me…” she began.

This was not a good start. Rabbie was unveiled in 1880, probably a century before this lady was even born. If a Central Park expert had never heard of him – was he lost in some overgrown shrubbery… or even still there at all?

“But hey, if he’s a poet then he’ll be in the Literary Gallery walkway down on The Mall. Head thataway…” – and she pointed vaguely towards some trees.

We reached the trees only to find a pathway. So we walked down the pathway… only to find more trees.
Experience has taught me that, when in doubt, get your phone out! And sure enough, Google Maps told me that Burns Statue was just a few hundred metres away.

When we found Sir Walter Scott’s statue, we knew we must be close. We turned around… and there he was… in several tons of magnificent bronze glory. Staring heavenwards from a tree stump, a quill in his hand, a poem to first true love, Mary Campbell, and a plough at his feet – it was grander than the humble bust I was expecting.

The St Andrews Society of New York, who funded the casting by artist John Steell, had made a wise choice.

When unveiled in 1880 in front of thousands of Scots ex-pats, it was the first Burns statue erected outside his homeland Scotland.

It was more than worthy of my humble red rose.

And all that was stopping my final act of tribute was a metal fence that kept the world’s riff-raff a safe distance from New York’s great works of art.

Having come 3219 miles, I wasn’t about to let the last twenty feet beat me.

“I’ll have to climb over…” I told Mrs Shields.

This was not well received. Mrs Shields has always preferred the overtly cautious to the conceivably careless.

“You’ll probably be trespassing. What if they arrest you?” she wondered.

I hadn’t thought about being arrested. Then again… the more I thought about it… the more I liked it!
Imagine an Ayrshire lad… and hey, a South Ayrshire elected councillor to boot!… being lifted by NY’s finest for placing a red rose at the statue of Robert Burns.

What a story!

I was over the fence in a single hop and placed my rose on Rabbie’s plinth.

Then I hung around for a few minutes in the hope that someone – anyone! – would appear at the scene of the crime, cuff me up and read me my rights.

A stream of tourists filtered passed – no-one was taking a blind bit of notice.

As I walked away – a private pledge fulfilled – I started thinking about another challenge. Some 5,000 people attended the statue’s unveiling back on October 3rd, 1880.My mission is now to get 5,000 people to attend the statue’s 150th anniversary on October 3rd, 2030.

Calling Burns enthusiasts, clubs, associations and societies across the world – contact me at bob.shields@south-ayrshire.gov.uk and let’s get the ball rolling…