The Bagpipe Busker

Back in the UK and looking to get back to real life (and hopefully a job) in the next wee while. I was invited to the World Pipe Band Championships in Glasgow at the weekend. It was won by Simon Fraser University from Canada forthe second year running (www.theworlds.co.uk) We had a great time with some pals, including Jamie who worked on my website for free and pulled up some web stats from the trip for those interested:

Month   Visits    Hits        US Only

I arrived back in NYC and dropped my bag off at the Paramount hotel. It was the first time in 6 weeks I didn’t have to stay at somewhere with a Scottish connection but in a way there was, because the Homecoming team put me up in a hotel to thank me for promoting the calendar of events.

THat evening I hooked up with Sergio Baptiste, another former colleague, and two lads who work for the global Dutch brewer who used to employ me. It was nice to see them and talk shop for a while.

I had an early night though because my last US TV appearance was scheduled for the following morning. I set my alarm clock for 6.15am, but due to some technical issues I was woken at 7.15am by the taxi arriving. Luckily it doesn’t take long to throw a kilt on but I was still half asleep when I arrived at the studio. Graham Norton was in the green room but before engaging him in early morning banter I went to get myself a coffee. Sadly, when I got back he was already gone. It just wasn’t my week for mixing with TV presenters with a celtic link….

I thought I had tuned my pipes to perfection, but something had gone awry by the time I reached the studio, and despite the interview going well, the pipes have never, ever sounded worse. I figured that after 6 weeks of playing I might have improved a smidgen, but those people listening at home must have thought I was putting some livestock to a painful end. It was awful and I the only explanation is that Norton must have sabotaged the pipes in the green room…. Anyway, it was live tv, and as I didn’t have time to retune, I pressed on, despite the caterwaul.

Humbled, I went down to Battery Park and looked out towards the Statue of Liberty, and reflected on a great trip. 6 weeks before I’d nervously opened my case in Times Square and struck up, only to be moved on within two minutes by Officer Lawfel and his tough guy cronies. I’d found a corner on 47th Street and played for half an hour, benefitting from the kindness of Frank Dwyer who gave me a $50 and made me think that what I was planning was possible. On day two I had a bucket of water chucked over me, but I still stuck at it.

That same day I had appeared on the Today show, and looking back, that appearance had really influenced the trip in a positive way. I had been inundated with invites to stay (around 5 pages of email invites). There was a handful of people along the way that I had arranged accommodation with prior to leaving the UK, but in the main, accommodation I got was from folks who had never heard of me before the 11th of June. But even more amazing were the folks who didn’t even see me on TV, like Ken and Melody Potter, Stevie McAnespie or Dr Ken Misch, and who needed only a few minutes of explanation of what I was doing before they offered me a place to stay.

The kindness of the Americans I stayed with was wonderful, from people ferrying me around the place, picking me up, dropping me off, throwing parties in pubs or their homes to drum up more support for the journey. So thanks to them, and thanks to everyone who donated to the cause (you can still donate, at www.justgiving.com/bagpipebusker) . OK, there were a number of complete gits too, like everyone who hassled me for playing the pipes, the goon in Denver who called the cops, or the white supremacist I stayed with in a place which I won’t divulge right now, and am too scared to detail on the blog in case they find me and kill me. But all in all, I was amazed at how easy this trip was, and how I could probably do it again with all the invites I’ve got but not taken up.

So….. I’m not saying its going to be anytime this year, but if you have sent an email inviting me to stay, there’s a real chance that I’ll be taking you up on your offer at some point in the future. Maybe not today, and maybe not tomorrow, but soon…

For now, I’m heading off for a week’s holiday with my girlfriend, and then going to think about a proper job when I get back. I’ll probably be at the World Pipe Band Championships on the 15th August in Glasgow. So, if you’re around, come and say hello. I’ll be one of the few guys there without my pipes…. Frankly, they’re all better than me, and anyway, I think I’ve played just about enough.

As Mark Twain once said, the coldest winter I ever saw was the summer I spent in San Francisco.

San Francisco doesn’t sound like it should be a cold place, and I won’t bore you with the meteorological explanation for the micro climate, but its genuinely cold sometimes in summer, and as I begain playing on the Oakland / Almeda ferry at 11am, being blown left right and centre by a billowing wind, I regretted giving away my Homecoming jacket to a raffle in Richmond VA.

I had arrived in Oakland the previous night after a really pricey taxi from San Francisco airport (never do this). This was obviously reverse karma for the fact that I had got a free flight from LA to San Fran (thanks to Megan’s mum). I know flying is cheating a bit, but I had already waggled my toes in the Pacific Ocean in San Diego, and the flight was a form of Scottish hospitality, and I was in a rush.. I also regretted not driving from LA to SF on the coast road, but I just didn’t have time, and its a great reason to go back and do it another visit.

I had emailed Ross Adair earlier in the day. Originally I’d planned to stay with Steve Greig (a guy I used to work with) but I realised at the last minute I didn’t have his mobile number, and put a plea out to Ross before I jumped on the plane. I arrived just as the dinner party was about to start but was made very welcome by Ross, his wife Anna, her brother Pete and their cousin Sarah and Sarah’s husband Niall. Highlight of dinner were Niall’s assertion that USA bums / hobos are much funnier than the UK equivalent, the tramp. He demonstrated this by referencing two begging signs he’d seen, held by American down-and-outs in San Francisco:

1 – ‘I’m like Obama, I want change’

and number 2 held by a sunburned, dirty, straggly-bearded gadgey, with grotty clothes and a torn coat, swigging a can of booze:

‘Babysitting, $8 per hour’.

So the next day I was on the ferry heading over to Pier 39. I arrived and set up stall bang in the middle of the tourists and lo and behold, an old git with the worst ‘just for men’ DIY hair dye came over and told me I had to stop playing because I didn’t have a permit. He said he couldn’t hear his customers and I reflected that it might be his hearing aid that was the problem. The gang of people at the Alcatraz tour office didn’t seem to mind (and they each gave a donation to the charity, just to prove it). Old grumpy guy wasn’t having it though, and while I told him I wouldn’t be long, he said security were on their way.

JC, the security guy turned up, and at this point I played my trump card. I had been interviewed by the San Francisco Examiner and the interview appeared on page 5 of that day’s edition. Granted, it the interview only took up a matchbox-sized space in the corner of the page, but it was accompanied by an even smaller picture. I told JC that the TV cameras were on their way. JC called the security office and within 5 minutes I was clear to play on the pier. Ahh the power of media. Ahh, the enjoyment of putting one over on the old gadge.

THat evening I stayed with Andy Weir, the Balvenie Brand Ambassador and we had a few jars with the aforementioned Steve, then the next day I walked off the excesses on a great walking tour, led my Kathy Martin. We hit some of the spots around Nob Hill and she talked about the early days of development in SanFrancisco and how it had been devasted by the earthquake of 1906.

At 6 I hooked up with Andy again in order to play at a book launch that he was doing a whisky tasting at. As I warmed up in Union Square I was approached by a wee guy who looked familiar. Thomas Martin, who’s folks had put me up in their flat in Baton Rouge a fortnight before. It was one of those wierd coincidences. Thomas was on holiday with his dad in SF for a few days and had heard the pipes. He plays himself, and proceeded to completely show me up by playing at about ten times the speed that I do.

The launch event went well, and we grabbed a quick bite to eat at Harry Denton’s Starlight lounge, which has great views over the city. I was persuaded up to play by the waitresses, and Harry himself came into the restaurant upon hearing the pipes and we got a few pictures with the big fella. After that it was farewell to San Francisco, and back to New York. I was sad to leave San Francisco but I was looking forward to getting back home, and New York was a step closer to that.

I left San Francisco tired but delighted with the way the trip had gone. I had crossed the states in 43 days and had played the pipes every day as promised. I made a total of $2584.57 dollars by busking, and combined with what you generous foilks gave on-line, the total is just shy of £5000 as I write this.

Arrived in LA on the Sunday night and met up with Lindsay Weems who was putting me up for the night. Here folks are thoroughly immersed in the Scottish way of life, and she’s a regular at Grandfather Mountain Games. We went to Grauman’s Chinese Theatre and I piped beside Sean Connery’s hand prints before being moved along – the pipes were too loud and they could hear it inside the theatre….

Then we went over to Santa Monica Pier (where the carousel from The Sting lives, and where they shot loadsa films, including the closing scenes of Falling Down). I was sexually propositioned by a tramp but otherwise the visit went well, and I played on the Pier (biggest donation came from a couple from Northern Ireland – the LA crowd were less generous).

Before calling it a night we went past the Ye Old Kings Head pub who had a karaoke night. Instead of doing some Proclaimers I opted to pipe instead, which went down well. Then I was treated to probably the worst karaoke I have ever seen from a guy who wanted to be in the Red Hot Chilli Peppers. He was awful.

Lindsay had mentioned to me that she knew TV’s Craig Ferguson’s ex wife, and that she was still on good terms with him. I had emailed the show a few weeks ago to tell them what I was doing but heard nowt, so I thought perhaps this was the way to get in the back door (so to speak). Lindsay then put a call in to the ex wife to see if there was any chance I could meet Craig and pipe on his show (the Late, Late Show, a big deal in LA). It was a total long shot but we were given a name at the studio who Lindsay explained everything to over the phone. Ten minutes later she called back to invite us to the show the following day. We were to give our names at security and go up to the green room and meet her there. WOOHOO!

The next day we showed up really excited, I had my kilt on and bagpipes, so I was far from inconspicuous, and when we got to the green room the contact wasn’t around. So we had a bite to eat and waited as various people milled around. Then every one was asked to go through to the studio, and I picked up my pipes and followed as requested.

We got to the studio and a runner asked me what I was doing with my pipes, so I explained, and Lindsay said she’s called Sascha, (the ex wife) about it. We were met with blank faces.

I was told I couldn’t take the pipes into the studio. Obviously there was some misunderstanding! I tried to explain in a few minutes what I was doing, but the runner continued to look puzzled. Honestly he was looking at me like I was asking to try on his grandmother’s underwear.

So the pipes were confiscated from me, and we were led into the audience, where we were told we could watch the show. Disappointed, we sat down and looked forward to maybe meeting Craig after the show. 5 minutes later the runner was back, saying the producer wanted a word! Brilliant! We figured it had all been sorted out!

Nope. The producer (a guy called Michael Naidus) met us in the green room again. In the space of 5 minutes he made it fairly clear that he thought Lindsay and I were insane TV Wannabees (to be fair, I could understand how he had arrived at this). He told us we couldn’t watch the show in the studio (I genuinely think he thought I was going to launch an amorous attack Craig Ferguson) and said we could watch the show in the green room, accompanied by security, or leave (accompanied by security).

Well. I know when I’m not wanted. I grabbed my pipes and we left. Lindsay was a bit upset because she didn’t want to get Craig’s ex-wife Sascha into trouble, but she told me she has since had an apology from Sascha and indirectly from Craig.

Apparently I got invited back the following day, but since I had to leave for San Francisco, I couldn’t do it.

I have heard nowt from Craig himself, but if he’s reading this, a donation to Ecas might go some way to soothing my battered ego….

Rob Calder (As seen on the Today Show, Fox News, Channel 15, etc etc …. but not, not the Late, Late Show).

The Train from Flagstaff to LA. Overnight. 10 hours. It was better than the bus.

Arrived in Union Station Los Angeles and jumped on the train to Vista, where Michelle and Tim Oeltmann had invited me to stay. If the name is familiar it’s because I stayed with Tim’s brother the bold Drew) in Nashville and I also stayed with his folks (Tom and Peg) in Franklin TN. Peg was over in California for a couple of weeks and it was great to see a familiar face.

Before I got there I took the Surf-rider coastal train, and it was a strange feeling seeing the sea. I have to admit to a wee bit of disappointment that the trip was almost over, mixed with an overwhelming joy that I had made it this far without being locked away in a sex dungeon in middle America and left to rot.

Tim and Michelle have a great house in Vista, with a wee vineyard out the back. It was a great place to spend some time. They invited a crowd of pals over that night for a party and to hear me play and we had a ball.

The next morning I relaxed by watching the Open Championship from a sun lounger. I felt quite indulgent.

Ian Wright (younger brother of Bruce Wright, my host in Fort Worth TX, and a very good bagpiper) picked me up around 4pm and we drove down to San Diego, via La Jolla where we saw the seals in the harbour. We went onto the beach and were accosted by an old lady with a stick who seemed to think we were getting too close to the seals (I was definitely keeping my distance. I don’t think my insurance covers seal bites). There is apparently a standoff between San Diego officials and the Friends of the Seals lobby. The latter don’t want anyone on the beach and want the punters to watch the seals from the harbour wall, so they don’t get emotionally violated or something (the seals, not the punters).

Then we headed to Ian’s playboy pad in downtown San Diego, which is MAGIC. Its not so much the interior, although the widescreen tv really worked for me. The magic comes when you stroll out to the balcony and look to your right and you have a box office view of Petco Park, where the San Diego Padres play. Fortunately for me, the Padres were at home that night, and playing well. We watched the game from the balcony then once again I hotfooted it to the main exit at the top of the 9th and made a fortune from the happy Padres fans as they left the game after a win. Ian also played for a few minutes after we did this HILARIOUS little skit where I pretended to offer my pipes to a random punter in the crowd (Ian) who turned out to be a great piper. That got a few laughs. Few laughs.

But despite that, we made good. $115 for the cause in about 30 minutes. I am considering a career (post piping trip) in Busking Consultancy.

I genuinely believe I could offer some insights and advice to new and established buskers which would add an average $17 per day to their earnings.

Phoenix is hot. Take it from me. 45 degrees is too hot to pipe. Its dry too, so my poor wee pipes didn’t know what was going on. One week in the sweat of New Orleans, the next in the desert.

Early (and I mean early) start in Vegas at 4.15 to make a couple of TV appearances which I wasn’t really awake for, then off to Phoenix where I was met by Scott MacPherson. Scott has lived in Arizona for 10 years and had been in touch even before I left the UK because his dad sends him cuttings from the paper. He saw my story in the Herald and got in touch to offer me a berth. He dropped me off in downtown Phoenix and I found a plush little square in the business district. I played for about twenty minutes and some workers even came out of to a balcony to watch what was happening. But I wasn’t making much in the way of donations so I wandered round the corner and found another spot, in the shade.

Within about ten minutes two ladies from the office came and found me and poured a bucket of money into the bag, money which they had collected around the office for me. Thanks to Amy and her pal for doing that. Also to Jackie who flung $20 into the pot.

I didn’t last very long that day and Scott came and picked me up, very weary, the heat was just too much. He took me for a tour round Phoenix and Scottsdale, where he lives with his wife Megan and two boys Logan and Corbin. After a couple of beers chilling by the pool we went to a nearby hotel where Michael McClanathan (www.thebagpiper.com) was playing. Michael is one of Arizona’s best pipers and he played at Scott and Megans wedding. We played for a while on the 18th green at the hotel (pipes, not putting).

Back at the house Scott and I scoured youtube for some classic Still Game clips and I showed him the wonderful 3 man lift clip on you tube (I was going to put the link in here but there’s some rude comments on the page so you’ll have to find it yersel) . The next morning was a taste of home as Scott defrosted some tattie scones he had smuggled through customs on his last trip home. Combined with a wee dod of HP I felt quite homesick.

Dr Ken Misch is the Drum Major (the guy with the twirly stick) of the LA Scots (one of the best pipe bands in America) and Desert Sky, a local band. So he’s a fan of traditional Scottish music. This didn’t stop him picking me up from the greyhound bus station in his Porsche.

“I have never been here before” he said, about the bus station. I doubt he ever will be again. Ken moves in different circles to the typical bus passenger. We went past a 50th birthday party at Tami and Angus’ house where some of the lads from Desert Sky were playing their pipes. Then, the main event, we headed to the exclusive bar at the top of the Mandalay Bay Hotel. The foundation room is plush, and has one of the best views over Las Vegas. Sadly it was full of UFC fans (the final had been downstairs in the hotel earlier) so there were a few musclebound types who were bringing the tone of the place down. We met up with a pal from home, Dave ‘Turban’ Turnbull, who was on holiday in Vegas with his girlfriend Diane and their pals (for 2 weeks! How can anyone cope with Vegas for 2 weeks?).

The next day I got a lie in while Dr Ken had to go and perform a circumcision on some poor wee laddie.

We had lunch (some great Dim Sum) with Ken’s family, then I headed back into downtown. I had been challenged earlier this trip to play at a random USA wedding by my pal Twig. He was going to make another donation to the charity (www.justgiving.com/bagpip

Advice for the week. Do not ever take the Greyhound overnight from Denver to Salt Lake City. It was the most cramped, smelly, cold, farty trip I have been on. It lasted ten hours and the night was filled with one thousand snores. The only redeeming feature came at daybreak, when the view of the landscape arrived. Its really beautiful, and the road before SLC has a view which could be somewhere in Europe, as the houses are in a Swiss Chalet Style. I bet is great when it snows.

SLC hosted the 2002 Winter Olympics and the city has benefited. There is a great downtown train link called the Trax, which you can ride for free.

I was staying with Eric Gilzean who runs a shop called Edinburgh Castle Imports. Eric is the brother of Alan Gilzean who played for Spurs and Scotland in the 70s. Eric is in his eighties and has been in the US for 56 years. I met Andrew and Debbie who work in the shop. Debbie told me that Eric wasn’t too well today (which got me worried, selfishly, that I would be stuck for accommodation) then I headed downtown to see what was going on.

I got some SLC culture by checking out the Mormon HQ. The Mormons descended on SLC after being persecuted in the east of the country in the 1800s. There’s a free tour of the tabernacle and the rest of the nerve centre of the Church of the Latter Day Saints…. In brief, it’s not for me, but freedom of (and from) religion is in the constitution so who am I to criticise?  As a man who has been persecuted for his art (in Denver) I can empathise. Incidentally, the constitution also allows for freedom of expression in art (so chew on that, ‘tache guy).

I then prepared for my trip to Las Vegas by watching the Hangover, which was very enjoyable. When I got back to the shop Debbie confirmed my fears – Eric had hurt his back and wasn’t up to visitors. However he had booked me into a hotel, at his expense, in downtown SLC. IT was hugely generous of him (it was a nice hotel, Little America) and above and beyond the call of hospitality.

So i checked into the hotel and into my room. I discovered the loo was broken (it wasn’t me) and I was immediately upgraded to a suite in the Tower. It was lurvely.

I headed into town in a cab, but before that I had to pick up my ticket for the bus to Las Vegas. I had the worst taxi driver in Utah. I reckoned, as a taxi driver, that the Bus Station would be one of the first places you would learn the location of. Not Kathy. Oh no.

The bus station was only ten minutes away on the Trax. It should have been 5 minutes in a cab. It took us twenty before I recognised where we were and gave Kathy directions (bear in mind she has lived here all her life). Then Kathy had the nerve to slag off the Trax, saying how it lost her loads of fares. I held my tongue but reflected in my internal monologue that it was more likely her weak knowledge of basic city landmarks which was to blame for her poor business performance.

I ate and played at a pub called Piper Down (appropriate, I thought), and I also met the wonderfully cynical Jared the barman – memorable quotes: “What are you doing in Salt Lake City? Get out while you still can. Head west, man, head west”; “I’m a consistent guy. I hate everyone. Micks, Jocks, Mormons, anyone, I hate ‘em all.”; and ‘Why are you still here? I told you to get out of SLC”.

As I was wandering back to the hotel ( i thought the streets were pretty safe in SLC too) I saw that the SLC Bees baseball team were playing. It was an opportune moment to sneak inside and see that they were in the 8th inning. I waited for ten minutes, then played outside while the fans left the ground. Twenty minutes later I had a case full of charitable donations and a happy feeling inside. I went back to my plush hotel room and reflected on the beauty of opportunistic buskery.

Took the bus to Boulder for a night with Jane Lawrence and her family in a great house up in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains. We picked up Jane’s Subaru in Boulder and made the half hour drive out of town to Allenspark. All of the scenery is fabulous, great big imposing rocks line the winding road while alongside it, the river tears down the hills towards the town. The water from the east side of the Rockies supplies huge swathes of central USA, while most of California’s water comes from the western side of the continental divide.

We got to the house and I met her husband Frank and her son Craig. The house is stuck right in the forest, and there are two streams pouring down the backside of the wild garden. I saw my first hummingbirds feeding on the balcony. Inside the garage Frank has got a couple of ‘works in progress’ – a 1960’s Lotus which he is steadily repairing to its former glory, and his 2005 Audi A6 which he is not fixing quick enough, according to Jane.

Their Scottish connection comes from their acestry, but they spent their honeymoon in Scotland and have been back twice since. Craig is also studying at Edinburgh University.

It was great to chill out in the countryside even if only for a night. Its a really relaxing environment and I would have loved to stay for a week but I had to be back in Denver in the morning for another interview. So it was an early night for me in the guest room, where I had another classic American experience – the water bed…

Once I was used to the ebb and flow of the bed I managed to drift off to a sleep full of seafaring dreams. I woke at 4am and trimmed the mainsail, then had some breakfast. It was a long drive back into Denver but Frank kindly drove me into town, and we saw a couple of Mule Deer bounce across the road in front of us. I arrived just in time for the interview then realised I had the rest of the day to kill in Denver – it was only 7.45am…

I filled my day with a haircut and a trip to Denver’s museums, then played in the 16th Street Mall again. It wasn’t very busy so I stuck at it for a couple of hours. I moved pitch at one point and arrived halfway down the mall. I’d been playing for two minutes when a Street AMbassador (tourist helper type in a loud yellow tshirt) came up and told me there had been a complaint from the restaurant next to me. “the manager has asked you to stop”. Said the polite wee ambassador guy.

“Well he’s not asked me” I said, and continued playing. I was being obstinate, but people were continuing to donate so I wanted to keep at it. Then another guy came down from the building on my right and said he was the business owner. He was very polite and asked me to move slightly as I was blocking a shop front. I moved further towards the complaining restaurant. Then 5 minutes later, a third guy, entirely unconnected to the first two, came up and stood in front of me when I was playing. He was tall, about 45, greyhaired, quite broad and had a rubbishy wee Hitler moustache. “You are dsturbing the police and continuing will get you a ticket” I told him I was raising money for charity.

“I’m happy for you. But if you continue I can get you a ticket” (his actual words).

I asked him if he was a cop, and of course, he wasn’t, he wa just an uppity moron with little else to fill his day. He asked me once again if I was going to stop. I answered him via the medium of peace-disturbing bagpipe music.

He was straight on the phone. 5 minutes later the cops turned up.

Fortunately for me I’d already seen the cops that morning. They had passed me when I was playing and nodded their approval, so when they arrived I dropped the stubborn Scot act and went into charm overdrive. The cops were fair though, they told me the complaining Hitler ‘tache guy was a frequent pain in their day, and that they had been enjoying the pipes. Officers John Duran and John McGrail (‘Scotch-Irish’ as they say over here).

They issued me a ticket for disturbing the peace’ which went straight in the scrapbook. I doubt that there will be a huge outcry when I don’t turn up for my court appearance, given that the address that Officer McGrail put on the ticket was as follows:

Rob Calder
Scotland

There ws also a discrepancy which would never have stood up in court – he put my height down as 5′10 when everyone knows I am definitely 5′11.