Chapter 10

Other Notable Roses

Taking Exception to Ratings

You may recall that I suggested using the Handbook for Selecting Roses for a reference in buying roses.  In that publication, a numerical rating systems derived from members' votes assigns every rose a score from 1.0 to 10.0.  Generally, look for roses with scores higher than 7.9, since 8.0 is the beginning of "Excellent."  I agree with the ARS's ratings above 8.0 for the twenty-four roses I've just recommended, but I take great exception to other ratings--some are too low, others are too high.

The Underrated

Roses get poor ratings from voting members of the ARS primarily for their unsatisfactory performance in exhibition.  It's true that the ones I'm listing in the next couple of pages may not do well enough at the show table to suit everybody.  Still, I wouldn't think of being without them in my garden, and neither will you if you plant and rate them for yourselves.

Bewitched has been one of the prettiest pink roses around since it was introduced in 1967.  One of the reasons for its low rating is its tendency to produce blooms with crooked necks.  Remember, though, that a crooked neck is not a weak neck and that it can hold a bloom erect.  Even in competition judges tend to overlook crooked necks when blossoms are worthy of award.

One of Bewitched's great assets is the purity of its color.  It's fresh pink throughout, and the form of the bloom is lovely even when the blossoms are exceptionally large, as they're prone to be.  Bewitched is intensely fragrant, and its foliage is glossy olive green and of average disease-resistance.  The bush is nicely shaped.

You'll understand how sincere I am in believing that these roses are underrated when I tell you that Bewitched is my firm recommendation for someone who wants to grow a pink rose.  Once I'm sure people want pink, not a blend, Bewitched is second to none.

I'm not certain why White Lightnin' doesn't have the rating it deserves.  In 1980, when it became the first white grandiflora to win an All-America award, it seemed on the road to stardom.  Again it's possible that hard-nosed judges are the culprits.  You will recall that all the roses on a grandiflora spray should be at the same stage of bloom.  White Lightnin' performs like a floribunda (which it should have been classified as in the first place) and shows stages of bloom all on one stem.

Whatever the causes for the disparaging rating.  I couldn't agree with it less, and neither will you when you cut the blooms it gives freely.  White Lightnin's mother is Angel Face.  You can see the resemblance when you compare the blooms of the two varieties.  White Lightnin' has wavy petals like those of its female parent.  Also like Angel Face, it has great fragrance, in this case a unique, quite citruslike scent.  The bush is of medium height (short for a grandiflora), but that doesn't hinder production.  White Lightnin' is a bloomer, and both sprays and one-to-a-stem blooms appear simultaneously.  Form is terrific either way.

Although Brandy was an All-America Selection in 1981, it has only a 7.3 rating today.  It deserves higher.  Brandy's bush is upright and perfectly shaped, with canes that head in the right direction to form an urn around a free interior center.  The foliage is attractive and nicely shaped--about as much as you could want from a hybrid tea.

Brandy's bloom is elegant and aptly named.  The golden apricot petals are shapely, and blooms appear with high centers and exhibition form.  The fact that there are only twenty-five to thirty petals could account for its disappointing rating, especially if a lot of exhibitors cast their votes after warm weather has caused blooms to blow at the show table.

I think Brandy is a real winner whether or not it exhibits well.  Besides, it has a fragrance that nicely fits its attractive color.

National Trust, I'm certain, is underrated because it doesn't grow well everywhere and because its blooms are often too small.  If you grow it where the thermometer rarely tops 100 degrees, though, it's wonderful.

When I tell you that National Trust has no fragrance, you know that it must have something big going for it.  It does--its form.  National Trust has a way of quilling its petals as though the world's best rose groomer had taken a camel-hair brush to coax it to the limit.  And for all its individuality, National Trust looks good with other roses; its highly distinct form doesn't clash with anything.

The bush is vigorous, and canes are plentiful but thorny.  The foliage isn't particularly distinctive, but neither is it disease-prone.

National Trust buds are often unappealing.  They tend to look malformed and too black at petal edges.  As they open, the form works itself out to perfection and the color becomes a rich ruby red.

Although it's the highest rated of my underrated, not enough people know about Just Joey.  The color, buff apricot, is a sure-fire winner.  Better yet, blooms are powerfully fragrant and oversize.

Unfortunately, the bush can't seem to live up to the bloom.  It's squat and never has the vigor you hope for.  Its foliage is a nice dark green, but not particularly distinctive.  Stems tend to be short and crooked.

I asked a very good florist who buys almost all the Just Joey we take to market why she liked it so much despite its persistently crooked stems.  She exclaimed that's why she likes it so much--because it arranges itself in displays.

Just Joey lasts and lasts as a cut flower, and it never loses its fragrance.  It's breathtaking fully open.

Medallion is underrated for the last reason you'd expect--it's oversize.  When someone tells me they want to grow a huge, fragrant rose of a smart color, I suggest Medallion.

Apricots were popular as old roses, but they came a little late in the hybridizing of modern roses.  Once they caught on and there were plenty for parenting, however, apricots and their blends gained rapidly in popularity.  Almost all are fragrant.

Medallion is a nice bush too.  It's vigorous, tall, shapely, and covered in medium green foliage.  It has a spreading quality that's nice for keeping long-stemmed roses out of each other's way.

Medallion buds are very long.  You have to wait for more than unfurled sepals to cut this bloom.  The bud itself must begin unfurling and show its first row of petals clearly apart from the center before you cut, or Medallion won't open.  Taken from the bush at the right time, it may very well get to be the biggest rose you've ever seen.

The Overrated

Roses get to be overrated because of sentiment and familiarity.  People are comfortable with roses they know the names of.  For them every orange rose is Tropicana, all mauves are Sterling Silver, and reds are Chrysler Imperial.

It seems churlish to make disparaging remarks about a variety that performed wonderfully during all the years when we didn't have another rose with its particular color, fragrance, size, or blooming characteristics, but loyalty is out of place here.  I believe that roses that have been conclusively outclassed by new introductions should have their ratings lowered.

I might as well begin with the most overrated of all, Tropicana.  I can't imagine how Tropicana has bamboozled the public for so long.  All those people who know its name are unaware that scads of orange roses have come along that outclass Tropicana by a mile.

I realize that detecting fragrance in a rose is often like finding beauty in a person's face--it depends on who's doing the looking, or in this case, the smelling.  Some swear Tropicana is fragrant.  I get nothing.

Other than being one of the first orange roses of exhibition quality, Tropicana has done nothing to deserve its popularity.  I think its bloom is dumpy and the bush a mess.  New canes appear only every third year for me, so I keep having bushes with wood that looks way past its time.  It not only mildews and rusts, but it's the only variety that has ever blackspotted on me.  To Tropicana, I say no, never.

Sunsprite is irresistibly yellow and smells wonderful, but its desirable qualities stop there.  I'm picking on Sunsprite because it has a couple of habits I detest--it has no lasting qualities, and it drops its petals in a big hurry.

I can only guess that those responsible for its 8.9 rating are exhibitors with fifty bushes of Sunsprite.  With that number they have a chance of catching blooms at the right time.  Otherwise, the fleeting qualities of this rose will drive you mad.  A whole spray can blow in a single day of warm weather.

I don't mind roses that drop their petals when they're really done, but Sunsprite is embarrassingly premature.  A bloom you spot in the morning and think about cutting all day may have dropped its petals on the ground by the time you get home.

Chrysler Imperial has stayed around because of its very catch, classy name.  It deserved its selection as an All-America rose in 1953.  After it became the dark red rose to beat, it began mothering and fathering some great offspring, most notably Mr. Lincoln.  Over the years, many dark reds (National Trust, Precious Platinum, Toro) have come along that should have pushed Chrysler Imperial to the side of the road.  It is fragrant, but that's about it.  On the downside there's mildew on already-dull foliage, lack of vigor, and short stems.  Finally, it blues at it ages more than any dark red I know.

I've been tempted to conclude that those responsible for its bafflingly high rating all live in hot climates, where Chrysler Imperial supposedly performs better (it has up to fifty petals), but that can't be it, because there are so many reds that do well for those growers.  I still think it's the name.

Garden Party is another rose that should begin a slow fade toward retirement; it has been soundly replaced.  Until 1978, if you asked any rosarian worth his salt to recommend a white rose with lavender-pink petal edges, he should have said Garden Party without deliberation.  After Pristine came along, the answer was different.

Garden Party is still in there fighting to be a show rose, but it's losing.  It has dropped from third to fourth place among exhibition roses in the last five years.  Many people seem to grow Garden Party well.  Actually, my blooms are good; it's the bush that's all wrong--it's the most rampant mildewer I know.

If you want this color, and I can't imagine why you wouldn't, trust me and try Pristine.

Miss All American Beauty was first known as Maria Callas.  That name makes it difficult for me to deliver the remarks I'm about to.  Madame Callas was my idea of a great diva.  The name didn't work in this country as it had in Europe, so it was changed to Miss All American Beauty.  Good name, bad rose.

If you want a huge, hot pink rose and you don't care how many "centers" it has, MAAB, as it's called, is for you.  If you don't mind short stems, that helps too.

Maria Callas (I use this name when I have something nice to say) has great foliage; it's a nice dark green that looks impervious to disease, which it is, sort of.  I have had blooms that made me gawk at their bold perfection, but for every one of those, I've had thirty blooms that looked like cabbages, each with so many centers that they gave me headaches.

I called Folklore "Rosa vulgaris."  Now, I'm into size, but I want large blooms, not gargantuan bushes.  I can't tell you how many pictures I've seen of rosarians' wives perched on top of stepladders cutting blooms of Folklore.  It's unquestionably the tallest hybrid tea around (it does make a great living, impenetrable hedge).  If you're fond of skyscraping bushes, plant Folklore.  Otherwise, you should know about the problems.  Remember balance and proportion in exhibiting?  Folklore scores a zero.  Blooms mature on very long stems.  Even if you cut with the bush in mind, blooms are disproportionately small compared to their stems.

The pluses are mainly a pleasant fragrance and a color that is a distinctive blend of yellow and shrimp pink.  The bush is disease-resistant, but who cares?