Old Roses, once ignored by all but a few, become more popular every year. When Miriam Wilkins and a few others founded the Heritage Rose Groups, only one California nursery (Roses of Yesterday and Today) sold old roses. There were just two others in the United States, and only a few available varieties to choose from. Now, after twenty years or so, almost every nursery offers at least a few "oldies." An increasing number of them specialize in Old Garden Roses and "Classic Moderns." More significantly, the list of available cultivars grows with every passing year, as "rose rustlers" ferret out their hiding places.
About ten years ago, a group of Heritage Rose folks traveled to Alcatraz Island in San Francisco Bay. They went over the island, mapping the surprising number of roses found there. That effort resulted in the identification and reintroduction of ‘Bardou Job,’ an 1887 French climber once thought to be extinct. The "Mare Island Rose Rescue," held in June 2000, was a similar effort, on a slightly larger scale.
Mare Island is a narrow finger of land at the northern end of San Francisco Bay, separated from the City of Vallejo by the narrow Mare Island Strait. The 800-acre island was purchased by the U.S. Navy in 1852, and operated as Mare Island Naval Shipyard until its closure in 1998. Base housing, built between 1855 and the 1960’s, ranged from elegant Victorian mansions to commonplace tract houses. Once open, grassy wetlands, Mare Island greets today’s visitor with gardens and parks, flowering shrubs, exotic trees, and roses. Mare Island’s roses, numbered in the thousands, are of every imaginable type and period. All have been neglected since the Navy’s departure in 1998, but many are in surprisingly good condition. Some of Mare Island’s roses surround elegant Victorian mansions, which will be retained through the Island’s conversion to civilian use. These roses are safe for the present, but many others are in imminent danger of destruction as parts of the island are cleared for new construction.
Marilyn Hartley, of the U.S. Forest Service, brought Mare Island’s roses to the attention of Vintage Gardens’ Gregg Lowery and Phillip Robinson. The Rose Rescue they organized focused on the collection and propagation of unrecognized varieties, which might not presently be in commerce. Word spread through the Internet, and the Rescue commenced on June 3rd.
The Rose Rescuers gathered at 9 a.m., at the Island’s "Marketing Center." Clay and I, and – yes – all three Dalmatians, joined Mel Hulse, of the San Jose Heritage Rose Garden, Ed Wilkinson, of the Oakland Rose Garden; Bay Area rosarian, Cass Bernstein, Jason -- a Florida rosarian, and Phillip Robinson and Gregg Lowery. The search area was divided into four sections — each section assigned to a rosarian team, accompanied by a Forest Service guide. Our guide, Cheri, told us that she spends as much time as possible outdoors on the island. She had a good idea where we’d find roses.
Our assigned area included a small park and a neighborhood of middle-class Victorian homes. We searched the grounds around an Enlisted Men's Club, an Officer's Club, the hospital, and Saint Peter’s Chapel – the oldest Navy Chapel in the U.S.
The Enlisted Men’s Club yielded our first find – a big, arching rose, with a modern look and the habit of a low climber or generous Shrub. Perfect foliage set off creamy white blooms with a delicate pink edge and ruffled form. I dubbed it "Bachelor’s Ruffles," and popped it into our bucket. We collected some unfamiliar Hybrid Teas along a steep staircase next to the hospital. Not far from there, we spotted a round "ball" of a rosebush, as neatly shaped as a topiary ball. Flawless dark green leaves were sharply pointed, and had a leathery, ridged texture. Only a mass of spent sprays marred this picture of perfection. We admired, but did not collect a cheery row of Sunsprite,’ (Floribunda, R. Kordes, 1977) in full bloom, with gleaming foliage. It’s a great rose, but it’s safely in commerce.
I began the trek dressed "sensibly" in hiking shoes, thick socks, and long pants. Wading through rank, dead grass, shoes, socks and pants collected foxtails at a record rate. In self defense, I changed into shorts and Birkenstocks, which proved to be a more practical choice. More distressing than the foxtails was the evidence that Roundup has been used liberally for weed control. WHY do Government agencies so love Roundup? Some roses were dead, or so badly affected by Roundup as to be uncollectable.
We found treasure in the sad remains of a once-lovely little park. A circular drive enclosed an elegant lily pond, where stone scallop shells once sprayed sparkling jets of water. A row of stone pillars was swagged with heavy chain. Had the rusting chain held climbing roses? If so, they’re long gone.
No one, now, consults the handsome sundial. The fountains are dry, and the lily pond holds only pollywogs and rainwater. Grapevines once climbed wrought iron arches, to shade a pathway, but they’re dead, and the path is hidden by weeds. There were roses here – but you had to look carefully to find them. Three roses and a flowering quince had grown into a huge, impenetrable thicket. One deliciously fragrant rose was similar in growth habit to 'Rose de Rescht. It’s neighbor threw out long, arching canes, thickly furred with small, harsh, brown prickles between a wealth of faded, short-stemmed blooms. There was no hope of identification, so I called it "Jeri’s Mystery." A third rose waved fading, deep pink clusters high above our heads.
Each group of cuttings was labeled, wrapped in wet newspaper, and stored in an ice chest.
A neighborhood of pretty Victorian houses surrounded the park. Deserted, neglected, they yet retained a graceful charm. Remnants of gardens struggled through weeds, and an abandoned swing set spoke of children who played here not so long ago. We found ‘Susan Louise’ — a tall rose, with generous clusters of loose pink blooms. It’s a slightly darker sport or seedling of ‘Belle of Portugal.’ (The "Belle" should have such perfect foliage!).
Discovering La Reine’ was like finding an old friend in a new place. The 1842 Hybrid Perpetual can’t be matched for fragrance, and here it was, in full bloom, boasting long stems, perfect foliage, and perfect form. I took a cutting for myself, though I HAVE ‘La Reine,’ (collected in San Juan Bautista). I‘ve never seen it so lovely.
A few houses away, a chain link fence was half hidden by big, healthy rose bushes. Four identical plants stood almost 6 feet tall, covered with long-stemmed fragrant blooms and perfect foliage. The sumptuous red blooms held shades of pink and tones of purple. It was "California Malton," tentatively identified by Vintage Gardens as ‘William Jesse’ (1850) formerly classed as a Bourbon, now called a "Hybrid China" by the American Rose Society. The same garden yielded up two bushes covered with thumbnail-sized pink blooms, a ruffled apricot maybe-Floribunda, and a white Polyantha, shaded pink, with a look of the "Koster" family.
Our search area included St. Peter’s Chapel. Built in the 1800’s, it’s noted for its TWENTY-NINE Tiffany stained glass windows. We couldn’t go inside, so could only guess at the beauty of the stained glass — and the Chapel grounds offered no roses of interest.
Nearby houses offered more fertile ground. In a spacious back yard, a small rose garden struggled to bloom through foxtails and brambles. A low picket fence lay half on the ground, and an old peach tree spilled cool shade. In this quiet, deserted garden, one could almost see elegant Victorian ladies strolling across a green lawn. These roses were all Hybrid Teas – but some were unfamiliar. ‘Tiffany.’ (HT, 1954) was in full bloom, petals only slightly faded, sumptuous and fragrant as some exotic grande dame. ‘General MacArthur’ (HT, 1905) opened tightly-scrolled, rose-red blooms to offer yet more fragrance. We collected two Hybrid Teas here – a silky dark red no one recognized, and a pretty yellow, touched with red and pink.
A neighborly gate opened into the garden next door, where two teams converged on a tall pink rose. It was another old friend – that wonderful "found" rose called "Barbara Worl" (after its discoverer) or "Grandma’s Hat." Some rosarians believe this rose to be ‘Cornet,’ (Hybrid Perpetual, 1845), while others insist that she’s ‘Mrs. R.G. Sharman-Crawford’ (Hybrid Perpetual, 1894). Whoever she is, she’s a superior choice for our coastal climate. She’s been found in so many places, we wonder how so fine a rose came to be so completely forgotten.
A nearby row of "newer" houses had a 1940’s look. Clay and Cheri found a tall rose there, with soft yellow semi-double blooms, and we wound up our search with a second unfamiliar white Hybrid Tea.
Back at the Marketing Center, the teams spread out their finds. Several of ours were unrecognized, and so were retained for propagation — but we received a quick lesson in rootstock. It’s easy to recognize the familiar, dark red blooms of ‘Dr. Huey,’ and I’ve learned in old cemeteries to know R. fortuniana, but one of our cuttings, a pretty semi-double in blush and pink, was Odorata rootstock. (The Chinese called it ‘Fun Jwan Lo.’). Someone else collected ‘Manetti,’ a once-blooming 1835 Noisette, with clusters of purple/pink blooms. Both have been used as rootstock, but are seldom so used today. Among the "real" roses brought in by other teams, I liked ‘Autumn.’ A 1928 Hybrid Tea with the rich gold and orange tones of the Pernetiana roses, ‘Autumn’ reminded me of the "mystery" Hybrid Tea we found in the Gonzalez cemetery .
The next morning, we rolled south, across the Golden Gate, down the coast, through Moss Landing and Gonzalez toward home. As we visited the roses of Moss Landing, Gregg, Phillip, and a few others worked at Vintage Gardens, preparing the Mare Island cuttings for propagation. Over the next few months, we’ll begin to learn more about the roses we rescued.
There’s already talk of a second Mare Island Rose Rescue. We’ve picked the foxtails out of our socks, and if the call goes out, we’re ready. We’ll be there.
Reprinted from The Ventura Rose,
bulletin of the Ventura County Rose Society, Jeri Jennings, editor.
