I got to know Mel Hulse in the mid-90s through an online newsgroup. However, because we were both located in Northern California and had similar rose interests, we quickly connected in the "real world" and worked together in the name of rose preservation until his death in 2008. At the time of our introduction, Mel was just beginning to volunteer his time for an ambitious project that was being visualized in San Jose; this vision was realized in the amazing San Jose Heritage Rose Garden.
Garry and Joyce Demits photo courtesy Pat Toolan
Since the founders of the garden collection were interested in displaying all aspects of the rose through history, they were committed to collecting and growing the many "found" roses abundant in the gardens of Heritage Rose Group members and often re-introduced (under Study Names) by nurseries specializing in antique roses. By planting these roses in a public collection, the hope was that identifications might be enabled. In some cases, that has been true. However, identified or not, the roses themselves remain beautiful and historical and their place in history is confirmed as long as they are grown. Mel was an avid advocate of this cause and his work was significant in aiding it. Mel didn't actually do a lot of rose rustling himself. He joined a few different members of the HRG groups for some group rustles, but he mostly supported the work of people "in the field" by making sure their finds were propagated, maintained, and preserved.
As Mel became more and more central to the daily operations and decision-making around the Garden, he became a reference point for my own studies, and those of many others. Mel learned at an accelerated pace, jamming years of rose knowledge into his head in months, and becoming an important consultant and an expert on the vast subject of The Rose. His enthusiasm and fascination with found roses made him a touchpoint for people like me, who made sure that any new "foundling" that I started ended up with Mel and was planted in the garden.
It soon became clear that it was easy to lure Mel into a few hours' drive in order to speak at a symposium or attend a conference. He enjoyed traveling in his precious post-retirement gift to himself, a red Mazda Miata, and he thoroughly enjoyed socializing and learning from like-minded rose enthusiasts. He was a unifying presence at these gatherings and many a cheerful and raucous post-conference-get-together took place after these affairs, with rosarians piled into Mel's motel room for endless rose talk, sharing of yarns, and learning from each other.
photo courtesy of Jeri Jennings
I was privileged to take a few trips with Mel in his favorite toy, the Red Rocket, his beloved Miata. We'd meet in San Jose and make our way to I-5 where we'd rocket southward, the gigantic wheels of semis towering over the tiny car, Mel easily piloting us toward a rose gathering at the Huntington Botanical Gardens or a visit to Ralph Moore in Visalia. Even with the top down we'd talk constantly, primarily of roses but our conversations (often conducted at top volume in the rushing wind) ranged widely. It was sheer fun and the companionship of these adventures led to a valuable friendship.
My last trip with Mel was a rustle in the spring of 2007, just before he fell seriously ill. With a group that convened at the Celebration of Old Roses in El Cerrito, Mel traveled to Ft. Bragg to "rustle" in the extensive garden of Joyce Demits. Joyce and her sister, Virginia Hopper, are among the very earliest of the HRG "rustlers" who traveled the back roads of Northern California searching for interesting "lost" roses. Her garden is one of the most interesting collections of such roses in the country and there are still varieties growing there that haven't been added to the San Jose collection.
Mel had his Palm Pilot, as he always did, and he walked around with the group members who were doing the cutting, bagging, and labeling of the specimens. He kept referring to the database he kept on his electronic device, tapping away to see if the garden had the rose or something akin to it somewhere in that database. He would become excited when it turned out that one or another of Joyce's roses had been overlooked, or lost. We rustled over 20 varieties that day and earmarked many more for a return visit.
Mel, once again, hosted a gathering in his room and then we all went out for a festive and delicious dinner together. Mel had told us about his illness earlier in the day, so the occasion was a poignant one. Mel was his usual gregarious self, enjoying his meal and a glass of good wine, joking, planning for the garden. Later, I was very thankful to have had this time with Mel, as it was to be one of the last trips he was able to make with rose friends. The simple "schmoozing" that enlivens and illumines gatherings of rosarians will never be the same for me without Mel in the middle of it.
