Billy Connolly's Route 66_ The Big Yin on the Ultimate American Road Trip - Billy Connolly [49]
This art was so alive. Most towns have statues of dowdy characters with big moustaches, dressed in frock coats and covered in pigeon shit. They’re the great and the good of the town, but nobody gives a toss about them. People swan straight past, even if they’re Robbie Burns or Robert Tannahill, rather than some general or lord mayor. Abstract and modern sculptures are so much more accessible. People are drawn to them and like to touch them. I love the fact that abstract art can do that for people, entitle them to go up and touch it. To me, it gives the art a life of its own. If I was the artist, I would be absolutely over the moon if I saw those kids reacting to my work in that way.
As I walked through the park, I saw another bunch of kids treating a big red abstract sculpture like a slide, whizzing down it on their bellies. Another statue had water squirting out of the ground and the kids were running through it, getting soaked. It made me so happy. It was such a joy to see these inert statues brought vividly to life.
I spotted a sign as I was leaving. It warned that playing in or near the water and sculptures was inherently dangerous, but it didn’t say, ‘Keep Off!’ It just asked visitors to exercise some caution and common sense when they let children loose on them: ‘Treat it and one another with respect, thereby maintaining an atmosphere which provides enjoyment for all.’ It was that easy to get people to behave responsibly. Much better than the usual threats of ‘Clear off or we’ll call the police, you scoundrel.’ What a wonderful place. A public garden with spectacular landscaping and internationally renowned sculpture in a completely open, accessible setting – what more could anyone want?
After that delightful, unplanned detour to the Citygarden, I must admit I was dreading my planned trip to the railway station. I was on my way to see its ‘whispering archway’, but I was wondering what on earth I could say about a station, no matter how beautiful. Even Grand Central Station in New York is difficult. You say it’s stunning. Then what?
However, I was very moved by some of the details of this station, such as that two million soldiers passed through it every month in 1943. I wondered how many of them returned home after being shipped over to Europe and Asia. All those goodbyes and cheerios and tidings of ‘good luck’ and ‘look after yourself’. And the arch turned out to be quite interesting, too. Most whispering galleries work on the horizontal inside a dome. For instance, at St Paul’s Cathedral in London, you whisper against the wall and the sound goes round horizontally. But this one goes up the wall, across the ceiling and down the opposite wall in a channel. Apparently no one realised it carried whispers until a workman hit himself with a hammer and swore. One of the other workmen on the other side of the arch heard the expletive distinctly. Now some guys say to their girlfriends, ‘Stand there. There’s something I want to tell you. I want you to hear this.’ Then they shoot over to the other side of the arch and whisper: ‘Will you marry me?’ Lovely.
I tried it out and it works perfectly. But I had nothing more to say about it, so we packed up the camera and went for lunch.
Entering a Japanese restaurant, I looked up at the television to see The Last Samurai. It stars Tom Cruise, Timothy Spall … and me. We asked the manager to rewind to the beginning and then we all watched it, something I’ve never done before. Usually I don’t even go to the premiere of a film in which I’ve appeared. If can get away with it, I’ll sneak away. But enough time had passed since I’d filmed this one, so it was fun to watch. All in all a rather jolly time was had in St Louis.
The next day, we collected the repaired