Friday, November 30, 2012

First Two Letters from Home 4th Sept, 1968


At the end of August, 1968, I travelled to London to attend a course for repetiteurs at the London Opera Centre - repetiteurs are a combination of rehearsal pianist, vocal coach, and sometimes conductor. I'd spent the previous two years travelling round New Zealand with the NZ Opera Company and the NZ Opera Quartet, and a professor at the University here suggested I audition for the LOC.  

I've been typing up the letters I sent home to my mother, Pat Crowl, from the UK, from 1968 to 1972.  For the most part I’m copying them as writ, unless there are things that can do with correcting, and I’ll explain where necessary. I’ve occasionally added in paragraph breaks.  I cringe a bit at times at some of the things I say, but I was only 23, fairly naive, and had only travelled previously to Australia. New Zealand at that time was still fairly provincial in its own way, and going to London was a considerable culture-shock. 

I left Dunedin for Christchurch on the 29th August, 1968, travelled to Sydney, stayed overnight at the Canberra Oriental Private Hotel, 223 Victoria St, Kings Cross. Left for Rome on the 30th Aug via Jakarta, Singapore, Bangkok and Bahrain.  Arrived in Rome on the 31st August and stayed at the Athena Hotel, via Pasquali 3. Left Rome for London on the 2nd Sept, and stayed initially at the Overseas Visitors Club, 180 Earl’s Court Rd,SW5.

First Letter - the letters were all written on aerograms, which allowed only three smallish pages of communication, and were all typewritten apart from the occasional handwritten note. 

4th Sept, 68.  c/- O.V.C.

Dear old mother, no offence intended, of course, purely affection!  Hope you are feeling happy again, and have got over this latest departure.  I must confess that in Rome, on the Sunday morning it rather got to me too, and every time I looked in the mirror, I got all miserable, and burst in tears.  Not quite sure whether it was the shock of seeing myself there or what, but I wasn’t too bright for a wee while either.  Still, haven’t felt like that since, and hope you’re all right too.  I did absolutely nothing in Sydney, so I won’t go into any detail about it, except to say that I had breakfast with three boys from Otago Boys High School, who were over there with a group, doing Aussie.  It’s a terribly small world.  I thought I’d escape that sort of thing here, but, apart from Mike and Kevin [my two best friends, who’d already been in London for some months] turning up at the airport (after a frantic day trying to decide just where I was arriving – there are three airports, and I couldn’t send them a telegram to either of them because it was Aug. Bank Holiday the day I arrived – the 2nd of Sept! – and both of them had given me public addresses to contact them at.) the first person we saw at the OVC was Don McPate, [no idea who this guy was anymore] and then yesterday, while waffling around London with Mike, and Kate Tither [Mike’s older sister, also called Kathleen, or Kathy] we ran into Neville Baird, who’d been at the music school [in Dunedin] one year, and then Anne Murphy and Pat B[ryant] in NZ House – and this in a city of eight million people!  [Anne and Pat were on their Big OE; I’d gone to school with Pat and her twin brother. Anne was later headmistress at St Francis Xavier Primary School for a number of years, including the time when some of my children were there.

The flight from Syd. To Rome was endless, and got to be a terrible drag after a while – there was just nothing to do, and they kept feeding us all the time.  When we stopped off at Singapore, I went into the Gents and a little boy turned on the taps to wash my hands, and handed me a towel – I wasn’t sure whether I [was] supposed to tip him, but another guy hadn't so I didn’t.  Then in Bangkok, I went in again, and the same thing happened.  But as I was walking out, one of the two boys there stops me and sez: Something for me? So I dived into me pocket and brought out an Aussie 5c, and he had the cheek to go Ooooh, in a very disapproving voice!  Embarrassing to say the least.  [I also had my first experience, in Bahrain, I think, of toilets that consisted of a hole in the floor.  I decided to wait until I got back on the plane!]

Hotel Athena as it is today
In Rome, it was cool, after all the tropical stopovers, and I was so tired I went straight to bed. That is, when I finally found my hotel.  The taxi-drivers were quite convinced there was no such place, and only after a heated Italian discussion did one of them consent to take me to the street to have a look (and then he charged me twice as much as the bloke who took me back [to the airport] on Monday).  First we found we were in the wrong street, and then he backed down a little and stopped outside 3.  This, as far as I could see was merely another apartment building, but I got out, and the door porter smiled and said, piano, piano, when I showed him the  reservation.  I thought as he was pointing upstairs that he thought I wanted an apartment room, but [he] was saying on the first floor, as I eventually realised!  He took me up however, and ushered me into the Hotel, which was only on the one floor.  The night clerk there (whom I later got on quite well with, though he could speak as much English as I can Italian) showed me round to a double room, with a balcony! And which looked fairly presentable, and so I flopped into bed. 

The whole thing was a bit of a shock though.  I think we imagine that everyone lives exactly like us, and eats the same food, and everything.  True, lots of things in Rome were exactly as they are at home (including ads for Firestone Brema!) [I had worked for Firestone for about a year before leaving for the UK] but I really had no conception of the differences.  At the beginning I was too nervous to leave my room and get something to eat, and my watch kept stopping with the heat, and it wasn’t until eight that night that I finally bought some oranges and a soft drink.  I was dying of thirst but didn’t want to drink the tap water – although it didn’t hurt me in the end - and wasn’t too happy at all. I’d gone for a walk earlier in the day – the hotel was in the middle of the University quarter – but with the combination of the heat, and the lassitude induced by the air trip, I hardly went very far at all.  So I slept most of that first day, and finally, so sick of my own company, went out to the desk, where there was a bit of a lounge, and started to read Time. The aforesaid night clerk and I struck up a bi-lingual conversation, and eventually, over a map, and with the aid of a pad and pen, got quite chatty, and sorted out how to get to St Peters and two or three other spots.  All this with the aid of considerable mime from him, and furious nods from me – his acting out of the cemetery was a scream!  He was a very nice gentle sort of person.  Later a Greek came in who could speak a modicum of English, and between the 3 we had a discussion on whether the Vatican should be pulled down and all the gold given the poor or not.  (The Greek was Orthodox, we other two Catholics.)  Things got so out of control that the Greek was talking Greek to the Italian, and he was talking Italian to me, and we were all somehow understanding.  Mad! 

Then another Italian came in, joined in the argument and set off a terrific flow of language.  They were still going strong when I went to bed.  My watch stopped again during the night and so I was late getting up – had breakfast about ten (which didn’t seem to matter) and then went to Mass down the road a little.  There was a bride who came in on the dot of 11, but whether she got married or not I never saw nor found out.  The Italians treat the Church partly as a social centre, partly as place of worship, partly as a place to show off their clothes, and heaven knows what else.  I’ve never seen so much coming and going in all my life.  And no one seemed to know when to stand or sit or kneel, so they were all over the place.  After that, though I wasn’t feeling too hot (but the weather was) I decided to get away and see San Pietro.

Continues in a second aerogramme....
Part Two.  I walked to the Stazione Termini, and caught a 64 Bus, and this took me to the Vatican.  But I was in such a daze, from the sun, and my general feeling that I might gone and seen St Joe's at home for all I took in.  [St Joseph’s Cathedral in Dunedin.]  Every time I looked up my head would spin a bit and when I sat down I thought I’d never get up again.  But I did get some impression.  It is really fabulous, quite unbelievable, and I saw what the Greek meant when he called it a plain of gold.  Not only gold, but marble, stone, everything, stretching in every direction.  It’s so massive, that even in a well state, you’d never take it all in.  (Michael [Tither] tells me they clean the floors with Vim, which adds a nice homely touch!).  I came out, therefore, not long after I’d gone in, but wasn’t going to be beaten and walked around a couple of streets to find the Museum and the Sistine Chapel, but they were closed.  This finished me, and I went back to my hotel and slept. 

When I got up, the night clerk and a Swiss girl, who was also on reception and had only started that day, were there.  She could speak English, and being a most attractive young lady, we had quite a long chat (and some more before I left).  She agreed that it took a while to get acclimatised, (I’m not sure how long it was she’d lived there), but reckoned I should have gone in the cooler parts of the day. 

Well, I had a meal that night, and Italian food is nothing like what we think Italian food is like.  First there was a very thick soup, which was quite edible (I mean that not unkindly), but, and this you’ll not believe, smelt more like vomit (!) than anything else I’ve ever seen on a plate!  [It was the Parmesan cheese on the soup that gave it its ‘peculiar’ smell.]  Got through that, and was given by the very sullen waiter – Nino – a plate of meat, very seasoned, with extremely cooked greens, and a large side plate of tomatoes and lettuce.  This wasn’t too bad, and then, treat of it all, pudding, which was two pears (hard) dunked whole in a little bowl of water.  Now, to my way of thinking that’s sheer waste of pear, but I ate it.  Well, for the first time in quite a wee while, I felt full and happy.  Watched TV for a while, but apart from some marvellous puppet mice (complete with moving eyes, ears, whiskers and mouth), I couldn’t make much out of it all.  Oh, yes, saw the end of a Flipper episode, and the little boy’s Italian dubbed voice was ten times better than the squeaky one that is his own.  (It was ten times sillier in Italian.)

Next morning, since I had a fair while to fill in – the plane was leaving an hour later than I had on the ticket, I decided to go to St Peters again, and see it properly, in the cool.  Well, this time I went up the Cupola, which, to save a 100 lire (all of 15c) nearly killed me, because I walked, and it’s to the top of St P., and it’s very high.   It’s not just steps, but a revolving type spiral, for ages.  However, it was worth it, though my legs have still not recovered!, and the view is out of this world.  (Italy has the softest look, country-wise, I’ve ever seen.)  Then just to do the deed thoroughly, I went with a group of Germans, and couple of Spaniards, and Italians up to the very top.  What a climb!  Fabulous view. 

By this time it was getting on, but I got back to the hotel, and eventually out to the airport without any bother.  The Alitalia airlines aren’t a patch on the ANZ [Air New Zealand] and QANTAS (which seem to be the same). Their service is not the best, the meal was pretty uninteresting, though chicken, and everything looks tatty.  [Chicken was still something of a luxury at this time in NZ.]  And the pilot, typically the Italian driver, landed with a great bump and squeak. The Itals can never drive at a moderate 30 – they did 60 or 70 past my room all the time, in a narrow street, vaguely two-laned on either side, and even the buses and trucks roared down there.  What a job too to remember which side they’re coming at you from when you’re crossing over. 

Well, I arrived in London quite safely, and though it took me ages to get the big case (it had arrived earlier after all) – I said to the bloke at the baggage enquiries that I’d been waiting about 15 mins for it to come after the other one had, and he quite cheerfully sez, only 15 minutes? The customs man seemed quite sorry that I had nothing at all to declare, and reckoned I was going to have a pretty quite time!  (Ah, England!) 

Well, when we arrived at the OVC, Kevin went off to get cleaned up, and Mike and I just sat and talked. They’ve neither of them changed a bit – some different ideas, but the same mannerisms, and everything.  Kevin is engaged to the girl I think I told you about, and it looks quite serious. This time, Mike had decided to shout us both to Rigoletto at the new Sadlers Wells theatre (an old one done up) and we sat in the upper circle – the fourth from the ground.  Could see though. 

The orch was fabulous, but apart from the girl singing Gilda, the cast was uninspiring, and so was the production.  I still think the NZ cast was the best I’ve seen in this opera.  [I don’t mention the fact that when the baritone singing Rigoletto began one of his arias, which starts with a long note, unaccompanied, he was flat, and when the orchestra came in there was an audible collision.]

We caught the tube there and back and it’s quite an easy system really. Yesterday, Mike and I met in NZ House, and then did a walking tour of a lot of the surrounding are. Covered a tremendous amount really, and gave me quite a look around – Soho (!), Westminster area, St James Park, Covent Garden, and everything in between.  [It’s a little ironic of me to put an exclamation mark beside Soho.  A year or so later I was working in the middle of it, as a cashier in a blue cinema.]  It’s all surprisingly handy to itself, if you see what I mean.  We go to Piccadilly Circus from Earls Court, and it all just falls into place from there. And it doesn’t seem that much of a walk, although my feet were killing me by the time Kate and I went to tea. We then went to see a film which since it’s a foreign one won’t go to the suburbs, where it would be cheaper to see.  The live theatre here is very cheap if you don’t mind sitting up in the gods.  Only a few bob. 

My lady who does me room has just been; she doesn’t look like the usual cleaning lady, but she talks like one, with her loves, and no aitches, etc.  There was a South African boy in here on the first night, and a Dutchman, but the former has left.  It’s not a single room, so it may be cheaper.

Lots of love, Michael. 

Saturday, November 03, 2012

Travel letter from Des

Amongst the letters I've come across in the last day or so is an aerogramme from Des, sent from Canada, when he and Monica went over for a reunion with some of Des's wartime squadron.  I only know that the date of the letter was 17 Sept - there's no year, although by squinting very hard at the postmark it could be 1980.  (It could also be 1930!)  [John Stokes has now confirmed that it was indeed 1980.]

I think the letter was written in a couple of stages: one long stretch and then a little bit to fill up the last space at the end.  

Dear Pat, Daphne, Jack and Co,
    This was to be a copy (virtually) of my letter to John and Barbara, but as I began that in San Francisco it would be inappropriate.  On the evening of 10 Sept we had a banquet in the Monterey Room of our hotel - went off OK, but 'banquet' would be a grandiose name for it.  I believe a batch of Aussies and perhaps Tour No 1 (which did not eventuate) were to join us (27) but this did not happen.  However I'm sure all enjoyed the night.  It was a nice hotel, in fact all the accommodation has been very good.  You would be interested Jack in the plumbing fixtures.  No loose plugs in the basins - steel (or chrome I suppose) ones operated by push rod which comes up through the tap assembly - new to me.  Usually showers have been over the bath with separate taps (ie H& C) regulating temp. & supply through the bath faucet - when temp. adjusted you lift a lever and the water then travels to the shower rose!
Pretty hard to squeeze letter writing into the day, but occasionally it is possible usually in morning as cases have to be ready about an hour before bus departure when we are on the move.  Tour to date has been immensely enjoyable with quite a few highlights, some recorded on film, but I guess a movie camera with sound would have been needed to capture some of the spirit of the moment, eg, the 'Bert Albert' [Alpert, probably] band in the street at Tijuana.  Wish you could all be with us.  Monica has just [been] watching a moose opposite the hotel.  There had been a couple of elk earlier.  Hope the bears wait until we depart before making their appearance!
The current version of the Airtram - you
can see why Monica might have had her
eyes shut!
Enjoyed S.F. where we took a bus tour of city and some also visited Chinatown and Fisherman's Wharf for a look around and a bit of shopping.  Fabulous shopping - could have spent a fortune, but we still have a long way to go.  On to Edmonton and Winnipeg today.  Flew to Vancouver on DC 8 and stayed in centre of city - very noisy at night.  Great bus tour of this beautiful city including visit to Queen Elizabeth Park with sunken garden where some Japanese?? weddings were being photographed.  Unfortunately my pictures are a little disappointing.  Had dinner one night at revolving restaurant 32? storeys up (highlight of visit).  Also spent time in tremendous shopping mall which spread underground to link up with two big stores, Hudson Bay Coy and [word indecipherable].  On way to Kamloops by coach we stopped at Hell's Gate, a fast stretch of deep wild water on Fraser's (?) river.  Descended gorge by Airtram which took about 28 people (including Monica - probably with eyes closed!) to where snacks, restrooms and ingenious salmon by-pass were located.  Travel Lodge Motel very comfortable and quiet.  Enjoyed Chinese meal at restaurant.  Indian heritage fairly evident along the way.
28 Sept. At this stage the reunion is over - met some wonderful people and had great time.  More later. Love Monica and Des.  xxoo

Grandmother letters


Here’s another letter, written a few months after the one Jack wrote, this time dated 28.4.48, and written by Flora Hannagan (Nan), my grandmother.

How are you all getting on?  Quite well, I hope.
We are all looking forward to seeing you.  I do hope it won’t be too long.  Monica has not been well for the last fortnight but she is getting on alright [sic] now.
Terry is home again as he couldn't study at all on account of his eyes.  It was a great disappointment I can tell you but they expect him to go back.  May be he is not meant to be a priest after all but as Fr Loughran says we can’t go against the will of God.  at present he is working on the Railway.
We will have a really good talk when you come home; that’s better than all the letters.
Everyone else is quite well.  I am afraid Michael’s birthday present will be late as usual for we have not been able to go to town.  I hope he has a very nice birthday.  A very, very happy birthday Michael, with plenty of good things to eat and a great big kiss from Nan and Pop.
I am late with the ‘Tablet’* and things, Pat but I will get them away as soon as I possibly can.  I have had quite a lot to do lately.
I do hope Frank is quite well.  We saw a little about the Radio games in the paper but we didn’t understand how Frank got on.
Tons of love and good wishes from all here and a great big hug and kiss for my lovely wee boy.
God bless you all,
Mum.  xxxxxxxxx

At the end there are two enormous kisses on either side of ‘To Michael from’ Nan and Pop.

This is a lovely tender grandparent letter.  I wonder if they had any inkling at this stage that their ‘lovely wee boy’ would soon be coming to stay for good.  It can't have been long after this letter was sent, because I understand I arrived in Dunedin before I was three, and my third birthday was on the 13th May, 1948.  

The envelope shows that this letter, originally sent to the 6th floor of the Rationing Directorate in 159 Flinders Lane, was forwarded back to 7 Stanley St.  Perhaps my mother and I had already left by the time it reached Australia. 

*Tablet: not some modern device that had somehow made its way back in time, but the popular Catholic magazine.  I would eventually write many book reviews for its successor: Tui Motu. 

Here's a second letter, written a few months earlier, on the 16.2.48, on a letter card (I think these were called: they were perforated on three sides and presumably the recipient tore them open).  

Lake Wanaka.

Dearest pat, Frank and wee Michael.  How are you all getting on?  We are having a lovely rest here and it's a beautiful Camping ground.  Dad is disappointed that there is no fishing but he may do a bit on the way home.  I think or rather I am sure this rest is going to do me a lot of good but I'll be ready for hard work when I get home.  Wish you were all here with us, it would be lovely.  We went to Mass at Hawea Flat yesterday and they have a most beautiful little Church.  Tow life size statues, one of the SH, [Sacred Heart] and one of Our Lady of the B.S. [Blessed Sacrament, I think.] Hope we will be seeing you this year.  Tons of love and good wishes to you all and a great big hug and kiss fro wee Michael.
God bless you all Mum.  xxxxxx from Nan and Pop [This last bit was squashed up one side.]




An envelope and its contents

An intriguing envelope, and intriguing contents.   First, the envelope.  Note that it's addressed to Mrs F Hannagan at 7 Stanley St.  


Inside there are two letters.   The first is dated April 28, '28, and says: 
I hereby agree to sell to C Hannagan property situated No 8 Stanley St Mornington as fenced for the sum of £675-0-0. 
                 pp Mason & Crowe
                      Edmund Crowe
Sale and possession May 19th 1928 (initialled by EC)





My immediate reaction to this is the address.  No 8?  Did the Crowes get the address wrong, or did the family actually buy a property across the street and later sell it?  I've never heard of them owning anything else in Stanley St, so I'd be interested to hear if anyone knows about this.  

The second item is dated June 28/- 28.  (Interesting way of writing it!)  It reads:

Received from C Hannagan the sum of twenty one pounds six shillings and eight pence £21-6-8 balance on purchase of house No 3 Stanley St Mornington
Y [?] Material supplied to house Elgin Rd pp Mason & Crowe
Edmund Crowe

No 3 Stanley St?  What, were the Hannagans property developers?  Or did Mr Crowe constantly get his addresses muddled?  









Commendatory letter

This item was sent by A H McLintock on the occasion of Charles Hannagan's retirement.  It relates to McLintock's History of Otago volumes that Charles bound by hand.  The letter has the House of Representatives logo on it, perhaps because McLintock worked as the Parliamentary Historian at one period in his life.  




Wgtn
21.12.53

Dear Mr Hannagan,
     I have just heard that you have retired from C.S.W., [Coulls Somerville Wilkie, a major printing firm in Dunedin] after a long time of skilled service as craftsman.

     I should like to extend to you my v. best wishes for a long and happy retirement.  I still regard my 'de luxe' Otago volumes with special pride.  It is a triumph of craftsmanship.

     With every good wish,
     Yours sincerely,
     A H McLintock

The envelope shows that the letter took a bit of getting to its recipient.  It was originally addressed to Coulls, Somerville, Wilkie, Dunedin (nothing more!), then sent onto Stanley St (a handwritten: Try Stanley St, Mornington, W1 - the postie would be expected to know the number) and then onto the Ryan's home, where presumably Charles and Flora were holidaying at that time: c/o D N Ryan, P O Box 13, Ohura, King Country. 





Letter from Jack to Pat

I've been having a clean out of old papers and amongst all the stuff has been various bits of family memorabilia.  Last night I came across an envelope with an old letter in it that I don't remember seeing before.  It’s from [my uncle] Jack to Pat when she was in Australia, and was sent on Sunday the 15th Feb, 1948.  Monica and Des had just got married; they lived at Stanley St the year we came home.   Jack was 17 in 1948; it was also the year that Mum and I came back to Dunedin, without my father.  I found another letter too, from Nan (my grandmother) in which she’s talking about all three of us coming back.  Obviously something didn’t work out along that line.   I’ll copy that letter here too, shortly.
Here’s Jack’s one.  He gets a bit carried away at times, and full stops become unimportant...but it's nice to see the typical Hannagan humour coming through.

Dear Pat,
It is about time I wrote the airmail [?] don’t you think?  Well here goes.
        Well Mum and Dad went away for there [sic] holiday on Thursday and as far as the weather goes here I think they have had plenty of sunshine.  Terry and I had to get our own tea on Thursday and afterwards I went to the pictures.  I came home from the pictures and at about 11.50 pm Monica and Des arrived home and we didn’t expect them till Friday.  Anyway I got to sleep at about 1 o’clock after a lot of talking; they seem to have had a pretty good time from what they told us.
        On Saturday morning Terry went for his holiday up to Wellington but he had a terrible day for travelling as it was so hot.
        We got all the snaps back from the chemist the other day but Terry took them all to Wellington with him so I will send him a telegram on Monday to send all mine down and I will send them all over to you and you can take the ones you want.  They are very small but you can see what everyone looks like.  I just had a look around but I can’t even find even one tiny small one to send you.
        By the way the pen I am writing this letter with was given to me by Des III [Stokes] for serving the mass for them.  It’s one of those that writes so many thousand words and then stops.  They say you can’t fill them but Dad reckons he can so we can try.  It looks like an ever sharp pencil cause the nib comes out the end and just looks like the lead.  The pen is very easy to write with but I’m very much afraid that I am unable to do it justice.  (So much for the pen).
      I’ve got a photo of [the Ryans] I thought you might be interested it’s not bad for me eh what?
      I just got another photo this time one of Miss Patricia O’Flaherty she’s a corker wee kid from what Mr and Mrs Stokes tell us.  When you see this you've seen just as much of her as we have.
We had a lot of fun the day of the wedding especially when Des was trying to get the car out.  First of all before Monica and Des came home after the breakfast we tied tincans on the back of the car and one Mr Munro printed on the back (just married).  As he was trying to get the car out three of us pushed like mad and he couldn't move an inch.  However he eventually got out onto the street and as they tried to get away Terry put a potatoe [sic] in the exhaust and Des didn’t know what was wrong.  Well he got started and by this time Charlie had a rope tied on the bumper bar and they still couldn't move and after a while they got away and the next we heard they were in Timaru then they went to Wellington and from there to Napier where they stayed for a while and came home.
      Well as this pen only writes so many words I better keep it to write to you next year or maybe a bit sooner than that.  Cheerio for now,
Love,
Jack.
PS Hurry up and come over so I won’t have to write so regularly.
Note on the back.  How’s Michael and Frank ain't I awful I forgot to ask.

Sent to: 
Mrs F A Crowl
6th Floor
Rationing Directorate
159 Flinders Lane
Melbourne
Australia.