Bronze Burns and Tenderloin Haggis

Today was the birthday of poet Robert Burns (1759-1796), a day that has long been marked with celebrations and observances worldwide, including in San Francisco. Notices for Burns events, put on by the various local Scottish Societies and Groups, appear yearly in the pages of the San Francisco Chronicle through the late 19^th and early 20^th centuries. These societies were apparently well-organized, as they banded together to bring about the erecting of a bronze statue of Burns, privately raising $30,000 for the undertaking. The California artist M. Earl Cummings was attained to create the monument. The statue is marked: "LOUIS DE ROME'S BRONZE FOUNDRY S.F. CAL.". The design of the Beaux-Arts carved, garlanded granite pedestal was designed by John Bakewell and Arthur Brown (principle architect of San Francisco City Hall). It was announced in the San Francisco Chronicle on January 28, 1906, that:

“Loyal Scots, true to their ‘ain countrie’ and generous and grateful to the land in which they live, have just completed arrangements for as handsome a testimonial of good will as it has been the good fortune of this municipality to receive. They are to give to the city for Golden Gate Park a magnificent statue of Robert Burns, which will be ready for unveiling within the next three months.”

Three months from that date would have been the end of April 1906. But on April 18^th the earthquake hit.  Needless to say, there was a slight delay with the statue raising. Not until February 1908 is it reported that the statue was “unveiled” on the same day that the Park Memorial Museum has its post-earthquake reopening. As testament to the general enthusiasm for the poet at the time, it is further reported that the statue was “visited by large crowds.”

Bagpipes on Burns Night

The annual Burns Night Celebration at the Edinburgh Castle Pub on Geary Street offers a well-established, idiosyncratic night. This year it was held on Saturday the 21^st, and having missed it last year for the first time in eight years, it was good to be back. First off the mood was set with bagpipe airs performed by Jack Cunningham, who is a long-standing Burns Night fixture and the possessor of glorious white whiskers. He was in good form and sounded great—his mutton chops were the cherry on top.

Kilts at the Castle

The evening was kicked off with a Burns reading by Alan Black: bartender, writer, and Glaswegian heart-and-soul of the Castle. Next came the usual presentation by Reverend Jana, who is a full-throttle walking mixed metaphor—earthy and humorous Scotswoman, and ordained Buddhist priest. She ministers to the varied denizens of the Tenderloin neighborhood through the year, but every January dons a black t-shirt, black vest, and kilt—and lets it rip on Burns Night. My favorite part is the fact that she demands quiet when she is speaking, which is a huge feat in a bar that’s packed with drinkers. There is inevitably a contingent of young patrons in attendance who appear to have only the vaguest idea of what the evening is about, and to see them shushed by a shaved-headed, female Scottish Buddhist priest with bawdy sensibilities—her reading glasses perched at the end of her nose—is a great pleasure.  Along with songs and readings, Rev. Jana chooses a yearly topic tinged with Burnsian naughtiness to expound on. Past years have featured meditations on sheep shagging, and the mysterious ways of the elusive haggi creature. This year was a reprisal of one that has popped up before, but is always a crowd pleaser: farting. A lively laundry list recitation followed (air bagel, cheek splitter, trouser cough, etc. etc.).

Addressing the Haggis

The highlight of the evening is the parading of the haggis. Alan calls for the crowd to part down the center of the bar like the red sea (which all obediently do), and a comely lass holds aloft the platter of haggis behind the marching bagpiper as everyone cheers and ogles the intriguing object. It's delivered to Alan up by the pool table, and he gives his always rousing reciting of Burns' "Address to a Haggis"! Everyone then rushes the table and lines up for their portion. Though I've skipped it in past years, this time I made it to the front of the line and got a serving. The haggis itself was small, and the stuff inside was quickly emptied out, but there were extra heaping piles of it on platters. Tastes to me a bit like grains mixed in liverwurst! The evening carried on with more readings and songs, and the whiskey flowed. Though in previous years I've stayed late enough for the evening to reach the next level of interesting (the first year I attended I was properly flashed by an inebriated, kilt-wearing young gent), this year we slipped out at a very prim 11:00ish. But still a satisfying Burns Night!

Haggis Remains

Late Sunday morning, not so much feeling hung over from the evening before as still suffering a general post-2011 malaise, I set out to the park in the pouring rain to visit the Burns statue, which is now located just before the museum on John F. Kennedy Drive. Standing in the gray light with his stockings, britches, and waistcoat, the rain whipping about him, he looked just as a father of Romanticism should—brooding and naturalistic. Though not mentioned in the 1908 article, there is now a bronze plaque on the plinth inscribed with the first stanza of Burns’ poem To a Mountain Daisy: “Wee, modest crimson-tipped flow’r / Thou’s met me in an evil hour…”  The park is lush and green right now, the air smelling wonderfully of damp redwood bark and eucalyptus trees, and it was a balm to soak it all in under the bronze gaze of Burns. I splashed back home well cheered.

Burns in the Park

San Franciso Chronicle (1869-Current Files); ProQuest Historic Newspapers; San Francisoc Chronicle (1865-1922); January 28, 1906 (p. 52); February 24, 1908 (p. 14).