23.9.67 - haircut and last letter from Sydney

23.9.67 Sydney

Re above date: just got a very overdue letter (dated 13/9/67) which had come via Manhattan. [The hotel, not the island.] And me mother was very sarcastic about putting on the dates!

Well, this will be the last letter you get before I arrive home; you’ll already know about my coming because I’ve just sent you a telegram. Am going to stay with Marge – have a feeling Glenda’s rather booked up – there’s 3 of them staying there just now. So I’ll be spending another night in danger of being eaten alive (with love) by Judy. [Marge’s dog.]

Spent most of yesterday in town. Incidentally heard from Pikler who was very sorry to say he couldn’t be of any help – I think he was a wee bit nonplussed when I didn’t sound put-down. I’m rather relieved in a way. Things could have got very complicated if I’d stayed on here. I’ down to my last $10!

ANZAC War Memorial

Went to the Museum yesterday, but since it’s mainly a natural history one I wasn’t madly enthused – I’d much rather see animals alive than stuffed. Then went into Hyde Park which is just across the road and watched some elderly men playing chess and draughts on little tables with the squares already marked out. The great big War Memorial is there too.

Then went and had a haircut. Well -----!!! When I came out I must have smelt as though I’d been dunked in a perfume-cum-hair-oil barrel. [These were the days when NZ men were men – as far as haircuts went. You went to the barber for your short back and sides and no frills, thank you.]

First he thoroughly wet my hair, then he razor-cut a lot of it (and scissored) then he cottonwoolled on some lather round the edges and razored that very precisely, then he stuck some rather stinging stuff on, then he dried it all again. Then he talcum-powdered (!) round the edge, then he oiled it a bit --- YUKK! And when he’d finished (80c later) it looked much the same as ever! Still, I at least felt that I’d got my 80c worth! [2018: The prices in these letters seem extraordinarily low…now.]

After this I decided to get something for Anne and the kids and during the course of this I so lost you wouldn’t believe it. Not that it was as bad as in the cemetery, but I’d go into an arcade and come out at a different angel, then have to go to a corner to find which street I was in, then have try and figure out whether I was above or below such and such another street, then I’d got into another arcade and come out in a tiny little street that led back to where I started!  AAAGH!!!

In the end I got Anne some flowers; they’ll arrive on Monday; what a job to think of something she’d like. Still, they’re always acceptable, I think. [2018: I don’t think I paid her anything for staying with her for a week or so…such is the ignorance of youth. This youth, anyway.] I got Chris a couple of packets of stamps – one mixed and the other a set of cats from Poland. They’re delightful. And I got Jenny a pretty pink vase – she’s quite keen on china and whatnots.

Then home exhausted.

Watched 2 films (in a row) last nite: one called Dragonwyck, about Gene Tierney who goes to act as governess for Vincent Price in a huge mansion, then later marries him when his first wife dies. Supposed to be very horrific, but only that in about 2 places when a supposed ghost sings and plays on a harpsichord – but only a certain number of people hear her. Well done, though.

The other was Life Begins at 8.30, about an elderly actor who has taken to drink (Monty Woolley) and whose daughter (Ida Lupino) is torn between him and Cornel Wilde (a composer, again!). It was very funny, in spots, very warm, very human (!) But quite well done. [Not sure what the point of the italics are in that last sentence…] Originally based on an Emlyn Williams play, but I don’t think there was much left of it. I also had the uncanny feeling of having seen it before – but the name doesn’t mean anything. Certain scenes and shots looked surprisingly familiar.

So, lots of love until I see yuh,

Mike (xxx to Fred). 

This is the last letter in the series. 

15.9.67 - Not listening to good advice

Sydney 15.9.67 (Noon)

Pencil economy! Not really – just haven’t a pen. Hullo! Have recovered my usual buoyant sense of humour (probably as a result of enjoying Fiddler so much, and because it’s so warm, and because I’m going quite well with my German – if I can keep it up.)

It’s a funny sort of day. Sort of diffused – if you know what I mean – there’s a haze over the city, but the sun is filtering through – and my left arm is feeling, and looking, rather burnt. I’m sitting in one of about a dozen parks (small) in KC, just down the road from the Hotel. These parks (even the very smallest) seem to have fountains and trees and shrubs, and there are any number of seats – in fact there are seats all over the city, and parks!

[back in ink again]

LATER Got a letter from me mother! Hurray! I laughed at it all the way up in the lift (otherwise empty) and along the corridor and into my room. Looks like I’d better take my umbrella into town with me tonight – it’s been raining most of the afternoon – should be okay – the repair job seems to be all right.

MICHAEL CROWL – MUSICAL DIRECTOR, No, no. MUSICAL DIRECTOR ----! That’s totally funny – I’d probably be awfully inept at it. [Not sure what the reference here is; probably my mother trying to cheer me up. 2018: anyway, I’d done musical directing in various ways before I’d gone to Oz, so I’m not quite sure why I found it so funny.]

I’m going to ring the Trust in about half an hour and see if I can get some satisfaction. Hope that today I’ll know what the future will be. I haven’t gone anywhere much for the last couple of days; it’s been sort of frustrating to have to sit round and wait like this. Can’t even book me flight home. And I’ll have to go easy on the old pocketbook, too, if I’ve got to stay on a bit longer. Anyway, I’m determined to come home with something left over. I would have had a lot more if the Hotel bill had been what I expected. (Don’t be surprised if every now and then you find nouns with capital letters in the middle of a sentence. In German all nouns have capitals and the ones that I know in German I’m inclined to put down with a capital! Silly, isn’t it?)

I’ve spent most of this arvo in the little library round the road reading Tobias and the Angel, a comedy on the Bible story, by James Bridie. The Aussies don’t seem to be able to put books in order. It’s awfully hard trying to find anything in the 2 libraries I’ve so far been in. The Main one in town has only a vague order. Nothing is alphabetical as far as I can see, so how they ever find anything! [Still griping about libraries 25 years later.]

LATER I’m really beginning to think that I need a business manager or something – I, myself, must be handling things wrongly – or something! Just rang the Trust, again, and now we’ve got to wait till Mr Krug gets himself moving re the Ballet Co. He’s their conductor. (P. Schwartz apparently stayed in Sth America or somewhere obscure – how odd!) [Peter Schwartz was a chain-smoking Austrian conductor who’d made his home in NZ; he was involved in the Summer Schools in Dunedin where I met him, where he was very encouraging in terms of my accompanying. I hadn’t heard of him since for years until I became involved in the brass band movement, and there he was conducting a band as one of the many strings to his bow. 2018: I wonder if I intended the wordplay/pun?] So they were going to wait till Tuesday, but I said that my time was limited (so it is; I’m fed up with waiting around for them) and so I’ve got to ring them on Monday at lunchtime. Heavens, they do muck around, don’t they! They must surely know whether they’ve got room for an extra pianist, or not – their excuse, according to the (not so) charming Miss Swan is that they’ve got people dotted all over the country just now. Marvellous!

I don’t know what to do about Pikler, now. Doubt if he can do much at this stage, and anyway, the place he’s mainly concerned with is the Conservatorium, and I’ve been there! And that other fellow that Cecil introduced me to, John Hammond, reckoned if he were in my shoes he’d get a job, any job, just to be on the spot. [A sound piece of advice which I obviously wasn’t hearing.] I’m inclined to think I’ll get as much musical experience back home – (where I’m obviously appreciated – heh, heh) and where I won’t have to pa out exorbitant amounts for lodgings. Look out, I’m going to scream – [printed very large:] AAAAGH!

That feels a lot better.

Courtesy Creative Commons

Better go, got all me packing to do tonite – go to Anne’s tomorrow. Mary Williams, who was also in Fledermaus, a cellist (whose flat Claude and I went to for tea, remember?) is coming over for the afternoon, on Sunday, so we can have quite a chat. [Claude was a genuine Frenchman [2018 I’m not sure why I wrote ‘genuine’], a clarinettist. There was some relationship between him and Mary but I’ve no idea how serious it was. I seem to recall Claude mooning around after a fairly disinterested Mary. My one other great memory of Claude, who was an excellent clarinettist, is that he couldn’t get a single note out of a clarinet I owned, and which I took on tour with me round NZ, and could actually play!] My poor old left arm’s burnt nearly through, while the right is only red.

Oh, well, see ya, love Mike.

14.9.67 - Feeling sorry for myself

Sydney 14.9.67

Dear Mother, here follow the Trials and Tribulations of a poor County Youth who got snared by the Big City.

All right – it’s not as bad as it sounds, but it’s been a rather frustrating day – with nothing accomplished and little done. Rang S. Hall this afternoon, but he was in conference and so his secretary answered. She read out a letter that I should have received (and which subsequently turned out to be downstairs) which sez: ‘Dear lovable Mike – thanks for coming and playing this week. While we all liked your playing (!), I am unable to offer you anything at present. If you wish I’ll be happy to mention you to the Ballet (!) who might need someone for their forthcoming season.’

So I said I’d ring him back later!

Well, poor little old self-pitying Michael went down to Elizabeth Bay and threw himself in! Unfortunately, no one was watching so he clambered out again and spent the rest of the afternoon thinking (!) and talking to animals who either barked at him or ignored him entirely.

Finished up thinking that even the Ballet isn’t the bottom of the rung, so when I rang back to see if I could speak to Hall, he still wasn’t speaking to the likes of me and his charming secretary (who was the last person I felt like talking to – her name’s Miss Swan) told me that she’d see what was happening and contact me tomorrow, or if I didn’t hear from her, for me to contact her. AAAGH!

So – I said all sorts of funny things to cheer myself up and then went and paid the bill for the last week – which I’d got this morning. It was for 7 days – yes, one week - $61.65 (still with me?) which I managed to get reduced by 75c because they charged me Room Service, which I don’t recall having had! So - !

This plurry room is $8.40 a nite (with Brekfit) not the $5 or so I expected.

A lovely day!

However, rang Anne to see how she was and inform her about news and ask her if I could borrow her room from Sat morning on (over the weekend) (anyhow) and she finds that it fits in beautifully if I care not to go out on Sat. night – and stay home and babysit for her 9 year old boy. Well, as I see it, if she’s good enough to have (vaguely) offered the room, then I can do that?!

So! she reckons the Ballet could be quite good as they go on much longer than the Opera – they’re about to start another season here (the Ballet are) so -! We’ll see what eventuates and not raise our teeny hopes too high this time!

LATER

Was originally going to go to the pictures tonite, but eventually decided to go and see another musical, Fiddler on the Roof – there were no really good films on for the mood I was in, so I thought this might fit the bill. Anyway, I can probably catch upon the films later.

Her Majesty’s is the hardest theatre to find – I asked 4 people all told (on two different trips – I didn’t get there the first time) and it was only after much foot-slogging that I found it tonite. Of course, I would pick to walk all the way – from KC. It must be getting on for 3 or 4 miles! No kidding.

It was worth it.

FOTR. I wouldn’t have missed for worlds. Forgive me if I’m phrasing like a Jew, but you see, that’s all this show is about. The Jews in Russia before the Revolution. Like Oliver and Half a Sixpence it ends in hope, but not happily. But what a terrific show. The music is nearly all based on Jewish-type themes, and they’re terrifically hummable. And it’s so sad one minute, then so happy! Sniff! I loved it. All the way thru there’s a guy pretending to play a fiddle on stage (and very well done, too) and though as far as I recall, he only plays one tune, it fits all moods. And we get all those Jewish type foot-stomping, hand-clapping dances, with a bit of Russian thrown in at one part. I really wish you could have seen it – it’s one in a million.

Must go – that show was well over two and a half hours long and it’s after eleven.

See ya, love Mike

Hayes Gordon

[Fiddler on the Roof really was one in a million. This particular production outshone the London one I saw a few years later, by far. The London one was tired; this was vibrant. The stage effects, though no doubt not all that original, had a marvellous freshness – I can still remember the ghost of the Grandmother sailing onto the stage with horrifying effect, and though you knew it must be someone on stilts, there was something utterly fascinating about it. [2018: can’t have been stilts: she swept around the stage as though she was on rollerskates, as well as being about ten foot tall.] I think the lead was played by an American, surrounded by a mainly Australian cast, and he was far more right in the role than either Alfie Bass who played it in London, or Zero Mostel, who played it in the film. Perhaps it was just that it was all so fresh in every respect that made me appreciate it and remember it; perhaps it really was one out of the bag.] [2018: the lead was Hayes Gordon, an American musical comedy star who’d been in the original production of Oklahoma. Blacklisted in the 50s, he went to Australia to star in Kiss Me, Kate, and carried on living there, establishing a theatre school there.]

10.9.67 Mass, lunch and the beach

10.9.67 [Sunday]

St Candice interior, courtesy Sydneyorgan.com

Hi! Went to Mass this morning at St Canice’s which is about 3 blocks away and tried to mumble my way through. The trouble is, the Aussies, in typical fashion, have simplified a good deal of the language and so we got, ‘The Lord be with you’ – ‘And with you’ (!) (which incidentally, is much better because it cuts out the emphasis on ‘And with Your spirit’ which is wrong. If anything, it should be, ‘And with your spirit.’ 

Anyway, I got there and then went and had a read of me ‘Annals’ and Catholic Weekly in the Fitzroy Gardens (where the El Alamein Fountain is – there’s a TV ad for raincoats with it in) which are just round the corner from the Manhattan. [The Annals Australasia – journal of Catholic culture, I think this might be.]

Then rang Anne Newbury, as she had suggested, and she invited me out for the afternoon. By this time there was a message from Cecil to ring him, which I did, and which took a considerably longer time than expected due to the slow, slow way he seems to talk and think. He finds he and his wife are all booked up this week, so they may have me out next Sunday. So it looks as though I’ll be here till at least next weekend (the money will last!) because I’ve got to ring Pikler then too. [The money barely lasted – I arrived in NZ with so little cash I had to borrow some money off Marge Quinn in Christchurch to get the train home to Dunedin. Marge was a former workmate of my mother, and we used her home as base before and after the Oz trip.]

Went out to Anne’s via the subway (after walking into town) which was another new experience. Some of the carriages here are double-deckers like the buses; I went in one (upstairs) on the way back tonite. That train goes over the Breedge (!) which was also interesting. [Me being rude about the Sydney accent.] Anne picked me up at the station and took me to her place, where I met Christopher (9) and Jenny (11). 

We had lunch in the sun, (a terrific day today) and then went for a ride to the beach (not Bondi, but beginning with B.), where we walked back and forth for quite a little while; even did some paddling (me – with me Sunday suit on – but I’d left me coat and tie at Anne’s.) It was really lovely in the sun, and think I’m getting a bit red in the face – it’s about time: I’ve been out in the sun enough lately. Stayed for tea, too, at Anne’s, and we watched TV – mainly a Disneyland on D Duck. Some of their programmes, in spite of the fact that they’ve got 4 channels, are behind ours – there was the beginning of that new Dean Martin show, for example. And they’ve still got the Underwater puppet show, and don’t seem to have heard of Thunderbirds! So!! [Anne was separated from her husband – she and I had met on the Die Fledermaus tour, when the Australian Opera orchestra was bought over to play, and had got on very well. She played oboe, if I remember rightly.]

Well, tomorrow, is the big day – and I’ll be glad when it’s over – I don’t really think I’ve been particularly relaxed all the time I’ve been here.

I’ve got another lunch date with Cecil tomorrow, and then back to the Trust for the (gulp!) audition!

So, see ya, Mike

9.9.67 Being a tourist

9.9.67

I’m sitting right opposite the Harbour Bridge which is 60 times more striking than I ever thought it was in pictures. And the sea’s a blaze of blue – it’s fabulous. There’s a little ferry going past – they really travel, those things; and a couple of trains have just gone over the bridge – what a racket they make! It must be something to do with the atmosphere – but every time I hear one go over, I think it’s a jet flying above – funny, isn’t it? There’s boats and ferries and hovercrafts galore (and yachts).

To my right is the Opera House – it really will be magnificent, if they ever finish it. I’m going round to see if I can get a closer look, in a minute.

Conservatorium of Music courtesy Wikicommons
How did I fail to mention that it looked like a castle?

To my left is a massive grey and blue-black building – must be about 15 storeys and there’s a couple more further along. (I’m in the Botanical Gardens – which seem to go on forever.) Everywhere there’s people taking photos of other people standing in front of things. Government House is over behind me – it looks rather like ‘Manderley’ in Rebecca and the Con (Conservatorium of Music) is further back. It’s a lovely white place with lots of square turrets. (Gov House has got round ones!)

The little black and white friend has just gone past again and there’s some sort of large (very) motorboat tugging by just now.

It’s a terrific day (Not Too Hot) but a little cold in the shade.

I started to move off to see the Opera H and discovered me shoes were untied – I’d forgotten. Wonder how many steps I’ve taken in the last few days.

The Opera House gets bigger and bigger. There’s a little observation hut with scale models etc, and it’s going to be some mighty place. The steps up the front (which are partly completed) seem to go in every direction for yards and if you think the building is large you should see the crane in front – it’s a whopper. I’d really like to see this place when it’s finished.

Blackman's Angry Young Girl
courtesy Art Gallery of NSW

LATER. Waffled round in the garden (which seems to go on forever) (- I certainly didn’t go from one end to the other ) for quite a while, then discovered the Art Gallery, which, in spite of Cecil P’s remarks, is definitely better than anything I’ve ever seen. He reckoned it wasn’t a patch on Melbourne’s. anyway, I had a good look around there and it’s got some marvellous stuff – a Millais, Henry Moores, Rembrandt sketches – all the things a gallery should have. It’s even got the original of Chaucer reading to…? (someone or other) [Chaucer at the court of Edward III by Ford Madox Ford] which I seem to recall is in in one of the Wonderland of Knowledges. [A set of encyclopedias which had long had a place in our home.] It’s a massive painting – indeed many of them are – huge! There are two quite hilarious ones: The Angry Little Girl who has a face quite screwed up with annoy (it’s a modern one) and another – a portrait of some Australian VIP lady. She’s – well in this shape. [A diagram was scribbled on the page. The Angry Young Girl is by Charles Blackman. Can’t identify the other.] sort of all elongated towards the top – almost a triangle in human shape. I wonder how she liked it? I’m at the pictures, just waiting for it to start. I notice Sound of M is in its 3^rd year and Dr Z in his 2^nd!

LATER AGAIN. Film was very good – very well acted. Went and had tea in the restaurant where Cecil and I went the other day. An old (I think he looked older than he was) chap sat in the same booth as me – and acted, or at least spoke as if he was drunk, yet didn’t smell drunk at all. We had quite a wee chat, anyway, when he wasn’t apologising to me for interrupting, or being there, or living!

That’s about it. I’m going to try and have an early night – I’ve woken up very tired every day so far! Caught Mass at St Mary’s when I dropped in for a visit today – they’d only just started, so I thought I might as well stay.

See ya, love, Mike

7.9.67 I arrive in Sydney

The first of a number of letters dating from when I went to Sydney, Australia, in 1967, to spy out the lay of the land regarding possibility of repetiteur work. Handwritten letters. Most of the letters have no date on them, but back in 1992 I appear to have got them sorted. I typed them up that year, printed them out, and then the original on-computer versions were lost. This year, 2018, I've typed them up again so that I have more than just a paper record. 

The comments in square brackets were added at the time the letters were first typed up, and a few more have been added in the 2018 update.

I’ve left some of the quirky spellings, most of which will have been intentional rather than accidental. 

The young fellow writing the letters - 22 years old at the time - was somewhat naive, a good Catholic, and sociable. And close to his mother, having not had a father in sight since he was three.

Manhattan Motel, Greenknowe Ave, Potts Pt, Sydney. Postmarked 7.9.67

Dear old

   Much-maligned

     Mum!

Please accept all apologies for general lousy treatment by yours truly of you over last couple of days. As you said once I got on the plane I was okay and thoroughly enjoyed the trip over. Chris Beckett and I had a couple of chats because we both had three seats each (the plane being only about half-full – it must hold up to 200!). [The identity of Chris Beckett is now not known at all – possibly he was someone I’d met at a Summer Music School.]

Tea (or Dinner) was the funniest thing you’ve ever seen. First a man (one of about four cabin stewards) appeared with a couple of very odd looking trays – he was holding them so high I couldn’t see what was on top, and I thought (the meal was four course, or supposed to be) that he was just bringing a few starting implements. However, the entire four courses were on this one tray! (About 18” by 24”). Soup was in one corner, sitting bubbling, then 2 little pottles (one with milk and the other with mint jelly for the lamb), then a tiny pair of pepper and salts, a packet containing two different biscuits and one of those quarters of Chesdale, a cup for the coffee (which arrived a little later), a packet containing knives, forks, etc, an oblong dish (divided down the middle) (about 6” long!) with a small piece of lamb in one side and two baby potatoes and a lot of peas in the other. There was also a small bread roll, and some butter. A real mini-meal. I’ve never got through a four course meal in less time!! [Things haven’t changed – they just don’t advertise it as a four-course meal anymore.] [Note in 2018: the very idea of a four-course meal is almost as unlikely as getting the sort of service that used to be provided on flying boats.]

Chris is going to Paris (via London and Vienna) to study piano!! Just like that – in the middle of a school year! (Upper sixth.)

The Manhattan is very enormous, compared to my usual sort of hotel (and is in the middle of dozens Kings Cross, naturally.] I am in a room with two beds, and a bathroom!! (Shower, bath, toilet.) And since no one else has arrived, I guess it’s all my own. [I have no idea why I thought I’d be sharing with some stranger, though it’s probable that had happened in NZ in a less expensive hotel.] It’s not luxurious, but it will do me fine. [Not quite sure what I expected for my money.] I have a fourth floor view of a lot of lights, and other buildings, and some ferry floating past. (And no fire escape either.) [Never satisfied. I probably hadn’t realised that the fire escape would be down the corridor, not directly off my room.]

More recent view from Greenknowe Ave window 

of other equally large hotels, just a couple of quite long streets away from the Cross. [

I wandered up and down for ages around the general area trying to get a paper, and finally gave up. Then I went into a bookshop that was open, and when I bought a book that I haven’t seen in NZ (and wanted) the lady gave me her paper when I told her me troubles.

Must mention customs. Of course, the moment the man started asking me questions I went all red and stammery and so he looked through my satchel (with such pornographic literature as David Copperfield) and through my bag (not the hanging one – he gave up before that) (and I’d recovered my self-control by then too!) and found all that carefully hidden contraband: Elastoplast, Enterovioform, underclothes, towel! [2018: Enterovioform is no longer generally available; apparently there were neurological side effects.]

Better go, this place looks quite interesting, after all!!!

XXXXXXX see ya, Mike.

A wee bit later,

Waall!!

(A) I’ve recovered me sense of humour (on the plane!) By the way, hardly saw the sea till practically at Sydney – flew over clouds from our West Coast.

(B)  I’ve fallen head over heels for Sydney!!

I went out before to post the rest of this letter, but couldn’t find anywhere with envelopes (although there’s all sorts of odd shops open) and couldn’t get the stamps I needed (PandPandP. Office on our corner.) [I think this means that there was a post office on the corner which I missed on the way out.] So I decided I’d have a look at the Cross before I went to bed. Well – (as it happens we came thru in the taxi before anyway) it seems to thrive mainly on strip-shows, with barkers outside telling you that the ‘show’s just started’ – and believe it or not a young frizzly blonde lady asked me as I was walking by, ‘Do you want a girl, love?’ (No, I didn’t believe it, either!) – she looked, and sounded quite nice, that was the funny part. I chuckled to myself all the way down the road! Bought meself some fruit (singly, not by the pound, I was informed!) because I’m starving.

See ya, Mike. [Oh, the arrogance of the naïve.]

These letters are indexed here