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Rosa's Secret - Chapter Twenty: Show Mania

John Pouw - a founding father of today's rose world and a novel in the making, from an old boys' industry to a competitive business.

By: JOHN POUW | 25-06-2025 | 12 min read
Floral Books
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The auction introduction for Aura® nearly went wrong. The first price setting at the Aalsmeer rose clock was essential for the flying start of a new variety. Snuf proved a mastermind in playing the buyers’ thumbs. In the early stages, there were agreements with ‘friendly’ exporters who would press their thumb early, later there were dancers and other acts when the first flowers of a new Witte de Wit would appear at the clock, after previous announcements. Other breeders copied, the auction management then forbade and, in the meantime, Snuf developed a more personal approach. For open days or just personal visits to the Witte de wit showcase, auctioneers and quality inspectors would also be invited and, most of the time, would end up in Big Anton’s house, where Aunt Wil would be serving drinks and snacks. Always welcome.

For a week, flowers of Aura® had been in the display case at the back of the stand with the buyer’s benches looking down on the passing products and looking up to the rose clock controlled by the auctioneers, all major buyers had received sample bunches, the presenters pointed at the passing product, holding up a few perfect bunches, the arm of the clock was set in motion … But then some pretty girls were spotted behind the glass wall of the visitors’ gallery. Pointing, shouting, obscene remarks, and a low starting price when, finally, the first buyer pressed his button. “Come on guys, pay attention. Let’s do that again.” Thank you, auctioneer. Thank you, Snuf.

Flower buyers at the auction clocks were a special bunch: all male, adrenaline and stress, early hours, chain smokers, alcoholics, buying tactics, loud, but with a general good sense of humor. Many would come early to walk between the lines of waiting trolleys with products, to check availability and quality. They would have preferred suppliers and distrust of the auction’s quality remarks for the different lots. The growers were the owners of the auction, employing the quality controllers. Butchers checking their own meat.

Witte de Wit also pursued new roads in the archaic advertising of the industry. The traditional blond girl with the bouquet of roses in front of the windmill had already been shed and the more international and imaginative face of a dark-haired girl in silhouette with the spotlight on a single anonymous rose adopted, together with the slogan ‘the willful wizards of Witte de Wit’. The posters had become very popular, and a series of ads now followed for the ‘Vakblad voor de Bloemisterij’, the weekly information highlight for the flower and plant business, in Dutch, but read internationally. Witte de Wit had to break with their religiously principled Rijnsburg advertising agency and the ‘Vakblad’ had fierce internal disputes, but in the end were convinced of the artisitic quality of the profiles, naked, but not explicit. The full-color ads became collector’s items. 
For the coming Aalsmeer show in the first week of November we were planning a big stand with a catwalk with models dressed up with our roses. Insanity, when you think of it. Weeks of planning to arrange the best flowers, stand design and construction, the right models, staffing of the stand, catering, at a rent of Hfl. 20,000 for the space. Just for a few days. Snuf and Jan were working on this, assisted by Julia and supervised by Sjef.

Norma was planning all meetings, lunches, and dinners with our relations. We had a week-long reservation for two groups in one restaurant in the Aalsmeer area. The guests were organized in such a way that awkward confrontations were avoided, and we could temporarily switch tables for a chat with the other invitees.

Every year this became a bigger puzzle. In order of importance, we would try and combine for dinners and lunches, visits to the breeding with Seedy and Junior, three locations for meetings: the Benthuizen office and two offices at Anton’s Potrozen in Nieuwveen, close to Aalsmeer and our commercial trials.

The final schedule of this year:

Notes:

Sheer craziness, but absolutely worthwhile.

I had not even had time to visit the show and listen to the traditional rumors about bankruptcies and takeovers. I was happy to walk into the greenhouse the following Tuesday after everybody had returned home. Walking to his infamous tunnel with Seedy and Junior, Seedy was anxious to check some things with me. Somehow, he had heard the rumors that I had missed. “Is it true that Kemira has taken over Terra Blanca? Has Speelman requested deferment of payment? Has Paul Schmidt seized the breeder’s rights for Premier Rouge in France? Did Anton pollinate ZamDolly?” Junior just observed with a big smile and twinkly eyes.

“Oh my god, Seedy, where have you been and been doing all week?” “If there had been any LAVAL development, I would have known. Kemira? I wouldn’t be surprised as I know also Shell is looking at getting in the flower industry in Kenya. Anton? That’s none of my business.”

Inside the tunnel, Seedy’s excitement instantly shifted to demonstrate that some of the rare varieties they had collected would be flowering next summer. They planned to collect the pollen, not knowing when the next flowering would be and had already incorporated these fathers in their breeding program for the summer. “Forget about the fucking Chinese,” Seedy stated, “if we get any seeds out of these, that would be a first step on our dream come true.”

I left the fucking pair with their dream in the messy tunnel and returned to the greenhouse to hear how Rosa was doing. Excitement was king here as well. Rosa was halfway through the scribblers and wanted to show me something. She pointed to the mirror in the corner and told she had seen Seedy with it. She took one of his indecipherable booklets, opened it, put the mirror in the middle and looked triumphant. In the mirror, not only the 0-s, 1-s and 8-s were readable, but also, with some effort—Seedy’s handwriting remained awkward-- the rest of the notes.

“It is all about the varieties in the tunnel,” Rosa explained. “Here you see crossings he wants to make. The codes on the left are our mothers in the breeding house, some LAVAL codes, several you selected at Kriloff and the names on the right refer to the varieties in the tunnel: ‘phoetida’, ‘chinensis’, ‘omeiensis, ‘gallica’, ‘celeste’, ‘nymphe’, ‘rubiginosa’, and an apparent series ‘amboise-1’, ‘amboise-3’, ‘amboise-6’ and some more. See?”

‘Wow, that’s exciting, Rosa, how did Seedy react to your discovery?
“I don’t dare to ask him; he will know I have found him out his secret.”
“The first varieties are familiar, he showed me those, but the ‘amboise’ series. I don’t know. An old French breeder perhaps, do you know?”
“I will try to find out, John, this is all of the last few days.”

 

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John Pouw

Rosa’s Secret is the result of (1) a promise to my Canadian buddy, Burke ‘Bruno’ Cullen. We share the love of myth, beauty, and Stroh-inspired storytelling. And (2) my grandfather Jan Pouw, who set up his own flower growing business a hundred years ago and who taught me never to give up on a dream, work hard, and discover and tap your talents.

Today, I spend my professional time on the bow of the longboat of Viking Roses, ready to invade. Watch out!

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