Carnegie Lecture

Dunfermline's most famous ex-resident on a worldwide basis is businessman Andrew Carnegie (1835-1919). Born in a small weaving cottage that serves as a museum today, a young Andrew emigrated with his family to the USA in 1848. One of his first jobs was a stint as a telegraph messenger boy and he eventually became the world's richest man after selling his steel empire, a move that netted him a personal cheque for 250 million dollars. That's a mind boggling sum today but must have been totally incomprehensible more than a century ago. In an astonishing act of philanthropy, he gave an estimated 90% of his fortune away over the final years of his life. Carnegie firmly believed in education for the masses and had a passion for libraries. He famously quoted "the man who dies rich, dies disgraced"

When I heard the Carnegie museum was hosting a lecture about the man himself, I ordered a couple of tickets. I ended up going alone on the night as my mum wasn't feeling too well, but that was no problem. The event took place in the main gallery hall - a 1928 extension connected to the original two-room Carnegie home (built circa 1750). I have visited the museum a few times over the decades and it's a very interesting place, chronicling great social change as well as telling the man's life story. A good crowd was in attendance and the birthplace cottage display was open beforehand, along with the gift shop. I had a quick look at the loom installed in the weaving room and browsed the rather cramped living quarters. Mind you, with just two children surviving infancy, the family probably had more space than what was considered average at the time. One abbreviation I learned during my genealogy research was CHLW (cross hand loom weaver) - an occupation often listed on early census records. It was a common set-up during the first half of the 19th century to produce textiles manually on a small scale in a home workshop. This practice declined as factories with mechanised looms began to force the smaller players out of business. The Carnegies sold their weaving equipment and borrowed the rest of the money required for the passage to Pennsylvania, where Andrew's maternal aunts were already living. The long journey began in Charlestown, where the family crossed the River Forth and made their way along the Forth & Clyde Canal to Glasgow. They set sail for New York and their lives would be transformed forever. Tonight's speaker was Sharron McColl - local studies supervisor at the Dunfermline Carnegie Library, an establishment she has worked in for the past 30 years. The lecture painted a good picture of the man, without getting bogged down in business details. There were several moments of humour. Carnegie had once said people should spend the first third of their life being educated, the middle part making money and the final stretch giving it back to the community. Sharron confessed she wasn't quite sure which stage she was currently at. Neither did the talk attempt to sugar-coat Carnegie. He was a ruthless wheeler and dealer who wasn't renowned for paying high wages to his staff. Very much a self-made man, I suppose his attitude was that anyone else had the freedom to go out and attempt to do what he had done.

As always, there was an opportunity to ask questions at the end of the lecture. I fancied hearing a bit more about the library legacy. Carnegie had opened 150 of these facilities in Scotland during his lifetime, (Dunfermline being the first to welcome visitors), around 600 in the UK as a whole and the worldwide total was well over two thousand. I knew a Carnegie trust fund still existed and wondered whether any of the original Scottish libraries to bear his name were still supported by the charity. As I suspected, control of these facilities had long since passed to local authorities but the very founding of the Carnegie libraries was instrumental in the enactment of legislation to compel town and county councils to make this provision for the public. Furthermore, Carnegie had personally bankrolled his libraries over the last 35 years of his life. A remarkable man, with flaws like every other human being. A famous Dunfermline son and thousands of people use the amenities he gifted to his place of birth - not least the award-winning Pittencrieff Park.

Bird Paintings

The Carnegie Library in Dunfermline has a community gallery, housed within the old entrance hall, which features changing exhibitions. The original library building dates back to 1883 and was financed by one of the town's most famous sons - Andrew Carnegie. Born into a weaving family, young Andrew emigrated to the United States at the age of 12. His cottage birthplace is now an excellent museum in its own right. Carnegie became a very wealthy man in his new homeland after investing in the steel industry and he donated a large chunk of his fortune to good causes. Believing passionately in education for the masses, he established many free public libraries across the world.

The first such facility to be opened was right here in Dunfermline, with Carnegie meeting the £8000 building costs. Extensions were added over the decades but the most significant overhaul came in 2017, when a new museum complex was constructed alongside the library. The main entrance was moved and a modern foyer with reception and shop provides access to the traditional lending and reading rooms on the ground floor, with an escalator whisking visitors up to the new galleries and café (which closed during the pandemic). Lovely gardens were created outside and attractive views of the abbey and Abbot House can be enjoyed from ground level, or through the windows of the upper floors. To reach the community art display, we had to walk through the lending library which thankfully retains much of its antique high wooding shelving, although space has been given over to computer facilities. Libraries must evolve with the times but a similar facility down the road in Kirkcaldy - also housed in a Victorian building - has replaced the traditional fittings with modern metal (and much lower) book stands which - in my opinion - serve only to cheapen the look. Today's exhibition was titled Bho Bheul an Eoin (From the Bird's Mouth) and featured the work of Derek Robertson, a professional wildlife artist who sketches from direct field observation. The project was supported by NatureScot and Bord na Gaidhlig. It was designed to promote the awareness of Gaelic terms for flora and fauna - including new species which may not yet have a name in our old Celtic language. Human intervention is often responsible for the appearance of unfamiliar wildlife in Scotland but this process is also driven by climate change, as more favourable temperatures (for the animals) encourage previously unseen species to migrate further north and flourish - sometimes to the detriment of the established natural order. The collection of art comprised mainly birds but also a range of other wildlife and vegetation. Naturally I gravitated towards our feathered friends, such as the Scottish crossbill (pictured above). I've only seen this bird once in real life.

Born and raised in Fife, Derek Robertson works from his Balmerino studio on the banks of the Tay. Since graduating from Duncan of Jordanstone Art College in Dundee in 1989, he has established a name as one of Scotland's foremost wildlife and landscape artists whose work is exhibited in galleries around the world, including the Woodson Art Museum in Wisconsin, where his paintings are held in the permanent collection. Derek has won numerous awards and was appointed Artist in Residence at the Tentsmuir National Nature Reserve in North Fife. I was instantly drawn to the image of the bee-eater, one of my dream birds, along with the spoonbill. I saw the latter at Montrose last year, but would probably have to travel far further afield to spot the multi-coloured bee-eater. Sightings of these characters are increasing in the UK and this year eight have been spotted in Norfolk. There are 27 types of bee-eaters, mostly found in Africa and Asia. As the name suggests, they target bees and other flying insects such as dragonflies. Their preferred tactic is to sit patiently then dart out from a perch to catch the insects in mid-air. Cleverly, they bash the bee against a branch to remove the sting and venom. I enjoyed the exhibition and another painting that grabbed my attention was the rose finch. These sparrow-sized birds normally inhabit northern Asia and parts of eastern and central Europe, but are known to breed sporadically in Britain. Afterwards, we strolled across to the recently-opened café at Abbot House. It was nice enough to sit outside and we ordered coffee and cake. Following a period of uncertainty when Abbot House was closed over a lease dispute, the beautiful A-listed building is once again accessible to the public. Instantly recognisable from its reddish pink limewash, Dunfermline's oldest property is currently undergoing a phased programme of renovation. The oldest parts of the house can be traced back to at least the 16th century and the building is now securely in the hands of a charitable organisation. Grants were obtained from the Carnegie Trust, Fife Council, the Architectural Heritage Fund and the Common Good Fund. This money facilitated the opening of a gift shop in the east wing and artisan studios on the upper floor. Further funding was sourced from Historic Environment Scotland to improve the exterior. Additional projects are in the pipeline and the mixed-use model can be summarised as follows: ground floor - socialising, middle - learning, upper - creative.

It is indeed great to hear this historic building has been saved for future generations, particularly as it sits slap bang in the Heritage Quarter. Dunfermline has astonishing potential as an international tourist destination with its links to Andrew Carnegie and Robert the Bruce (buried in the Abbey). Throw in the mother of William Wallace, whose grave lies under a thorn tree in the abbey churchyard, and you have fantastic threads of history to play with. That's before we even consider the seven ancient Scottish kings known to rest on the old abbey site. Cruise ships regularly dock at nearby Rosyth and Edinburgh will be a popular day trip among passengers. If Dunfermline could siphon off a fraction of that trade, it would make a big difference to the local economy of the Auld Grey Toun. Or simply grab the tourists before they make their way up to the Highlands. Dunfermline has lots to offer and the rail link to the capital city is certainly useful. The High Street has seen better days but this - sadly - is an issue affecting many towns and cities across the land. The old system of depending heavily on retail chain stores to draw footfall is no longer fit for purpose. New incentives have to be developed and we saw a bit of that in action today.

Queen Elizabeth in Edinburgh

The death of a (previously healthy) person aged 96 is cause to celebrate a long existence upon this earth. Way more than the three score and ten traditionally granted by the big man upstairs. While the Queen had looked decidedly frail at the formal appointment of new Prime Minister Liz Truss at Balmoral Castle, nobody imagined she would be gone just two days later, particularly as all reports suggested she was still as sharp as a tack mentally. The suddenness of the passing was a surprise and the loss of a permanent fixture in our lives really hit home. You would have be over 80 to have any meaningful recall of King George VI.

I learned on the lunchtime news about the serious health concerns. The fact her family were all scrambling to reach Balmoral on the same day was indeed an ominous sign. I was staying behind at work for a parents information evening - busying myself with admin tasks - when the formal announcement of the Queen's death came through. Ten minutes later I had to throw myself into my professional commitments, then make a very wet bus journey home. Social media was of course awash with tributes to the departed sovereign and the regular BBC channels reported solely on the day we hoped wouldn't come, but inevitably had to. I assume there was extensive coverage across the globe - the Queen was Head of State in many Commonwealth nations. Other countries do have monarchies but none command the level of public interest that goes hand in hand with the British institution. The Queen spent 70 years tirelessly representing the United Kingdom around the world and performed her constitutional duties until the very end. Basically she kept going. Something I admire immensely. Politicians come and go but the monarch is appointed for life to serve the people. The Queen's reign encompassed many prime ministers, American presidents, and popes. Her name and image is embedded firmly into innumerable facets of everyday life. Her absence will be felt deeply. I muddled though work on the Friday and the full sense of what had happened began to soak in over the weekend. The TV cameras followed the events in minute detail, while the newspapers all produced special editions and supplements. I bought a few. The Queen loved her daily papers and correspondence. Life does go on - I watched the broadcasts on Saturday and Sunday evenings but went out during the day. It was always well documented that Balmoral Estate in Aberdeenshire was the Queen's favourite retreat and you have to wonder whether she knew her time was short and decided to live out her final days in the Scottish countryside. Her death up here meant Scotland was intimately involved in arranging the transportation of Her Majesty's coffin back to London.

The Royal hearse made it's way south to Holyrood Palace on the Sunday afternoon. I caught some footage of the journey on the BBC and saw the broadcast of Charles being proclaimed King at the Mercat Cross in Edinburgh. The adjacent St Giles Cathedral was to host the coffin for one day, following a procession up the Royal Mile on Monday afternoon, during which the Queen's children would be present on foot. I wasn't able to make the parade due to work commitments but I resolved to hop on a bus afterwards to the capital, so that I might pay my respects in some small way. A vigil was due to be performed within the cathedral by King Charles and his siblings at around 7.30pm. I had heard public viewing would be available for a full 24 hours, but also that queues were expected to be several hours long, all through the night. Time I didn't have. It was a lovely September evening and I arrived in Princes Street around 5.15pm, making my way along Market Street to join the lower reaches of the Royal Mile, where heraldic banners hung from the buildings on either side. Crowd barriers ran all the way up the street and police were stationed every 30 yards, along with many stewards. Clearly, the royal party would be passing this way, a fact confirmed by a policewoman with whom I had a quick word. I decided to see how close I could get to St Giles and found a spot behind the barrier looking directly at the main entrance, some 50 yards distant. There was a row of people directly before me but I had the advantage of height. Several foreign tourists stood around me and nobody was entirely sure what would be happening here - if anything. The local police weren't giving much away and were busy trying to maintain a clear pathway on the pavement. I surmised there wouldn't be intensive security (and a TV presence) unless the King was on his way. Surely they would enter through the front door. One Scottish chap was on the phone to someone watching the TV at home and he kept us posted with updates on the whereabouts of the royal group. We received word they had left Holyrood Palace and - after a couple of false starts where security cars rolled by - the limousine carrying Charles & Camilla drove up to the entrance. The sudden appearance of plain-clothes officers watching the crowd had alerted us to the imminent arrival.

A sea of camera phones were simultaneously raised and the first royal I actually saw was Princess Anne - who stepped out of a Range Rover parked behind the main vehicle. She was followed by Andrew and Edward. The King & Queen Consort emerged and the party were welcomed at the front door before disappearing inside. It obviously wasn't the sort of occasion for them to come over and speak to the crowd. The people with vistors wristbands had begun filing inside about an hour previously and I saw footage later on iPlayer of the crowds walking past the coffin as the Queen's children stood guard. I caught a bus home, satisfied I'd made my own little personal pilgrimage to say goodbye to our beloved sovereign. A few days later, I added comments to a book of condolences at Dunfermline Carnegie Library. We will never see the likes of Queen Elizabeth again. God bless her noble reign.