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. 

20.9.67 - The waiting game

Sydney 20.9.67

Hullo, me old friend,

Well, things go along very slowly here – everyone seems to think I’m here to stay and can afford to sit round and wait for them all. Haven’t heard anymore from Krug and Co yet – they’re the slowest of the lot.

Went to see Robert Pikler yesterday; was supposed to have lunch with him, but he was even too busy to do that; he was very kind and helpful – the way everyone is, here (for a start, anyway), and he promised to ring one person at the University who is a conductor there, and also to see the chief coach at the Con and also the Opera School Head, there. Since he’s on the inside, he may be able to do something for me. He sez there are two people there who do nothing but coaching of singers and he reckons they’re both flat out. (They might like to stay that way – since neither is on a salary, but a commission basis.) Anyway, I’ve got to ring him back, or he’ll ring me; something or other, before the week’s out. This means I’ll have to stay till the end of this week at least; awkward, isn’t it. I wouldn’t mind if I was assured of work, but this sitting around waiting all the time rather gets me down. But there’s little I can do, I think. [2018: There’s a considerable lack of gratitude here, considering how generous all these people were. Perhaps Krug and even Pikler thought I wasn’t interested enough in work and didn’t pursue things further.]

I’ve spent most of this morning ironing shirts and hankies. Did a big wash yesterday, now that I was able to get some soap powder. Used to wash me sox in the hotel and leave them in the bathroom to dry – it was always so hot in there, they’d generally dry overnight. Discovered yesterday that I still had one of the keys to my hotel room! Dropped it into them while I was in seeing Pikler.

Watched an odd movie on TV last nite – All the Brothers were Valiant (felt as though I’d seen it before, too) – it had Robert Taylor, Ann Blyth, Stewart Granger and Betta St John in it. (The latter is the wife of the guy who came out to do Fledermaus last year.) [Peter Grant, who also appeared in a few movies.] It was a pretty weird story, but it did have one very good sequence where they were catching a whale – though the whole thing was done in the studio, it was extremely well done – certainly the best thing in it.

It’s a gorgeous day today – lovely warm sun – it’s in the 60s, I think.

I’m still ploughing slowly through my German, but I think I’m progressing. Anne, who spent a year in Vienna, asked me something in it last night – and I didn’t understand a word – so I’m still very much a beginner.

That seems to be all just now, so see ya, Love, Mike

16.9.67 - I move to Northwood

Northwood, Sydney 16.9.67

Dear Mother,

Shifted out of the Grand Hotel today – thank goodness – any longer there would have ruined me. Got out to Anne’s and since she was going out to do the shopping, stayed in and talked to Christopher.

Though it wasn’t much of a day, Chris and I went to Luna Park, (Jenny was already going out for the afternoon) which was not nearly as big a place as I expected. However, we enjoyed it, and Chris is fortunately not the sort of kid who likes going on the really hectic things – Ferris Wheels, Big Dippers, etc. Though we did go on three things in a row which resulted in my feeling knock-kneed and dizzy, and several other things besides, but I survived the walk home from the station – which is about a mile and a half from here, and a lot of it uphill.

Sat up and watched The Window on TV – it finished about 10.15 – in fact I was going to watch another movie but decided not to; it’s about a little boy (Bobby Driscoll, who was the voice of Peter Pan, a bit later) who sees a murder, but no one believes him because he’s a tall story teller at the best of times. Arthur Kennedy and Ruth Roman were his disbelieving daddy and mommy. Very good. They have an incredible number of movies on TV here. (Of course, there’s four channels.) But I reckon, I could stay home and see a movie every night with ease, and probably two. What a life! [In those days, new movies were worth seeing, and Mum and I had gone regularly, week after week, to a five o’clock Friday session to see a new film, from the time I was quite young. When I was able to pay my way, I’d often go to more than one in a day, or a weekend, and if there was a Film Festival on, I could wind up seeing more.]

LATER Mary Williams, (the cellist) has been out for the afternoon and we three went wandering all round the suburb, in the sun; Anne pointing out various interesting things.

Watched Hole in the Head on TV, a Frank Capra, of the 50s, with Frank Sinatra, Edward G Robinson, Eleanor Parker, Thelma Ritter, etc. Marvellous.

Anne’s house is very nice – she’s apparently re-done it, in a lot of ways – modernised it slightly etc. She’s got quite a bit of furniture that she brought from England, some of it very old (it belonged to her mother before her). And she has a couple of Renoir prints and an old original (not by anyone famous) dated 1611 (!) in her lounge.

[In the original letter there is a drawn plan of the house.] As usual everything here is a little out of proportion, but I dare say you get the picture. It’s not really as big a house as it looks either, I suppose it would be about the same size as our place, perhaps a trifle smaller. [Which must means that the rooms are very small, since there are four bedrooms in the plan.]

This doesn’t seem much of a letter for 2 days, but I don’t seem to have done much. Got to ring Aussie Trust again today – so, we’ll see what happens. Supposed to see Pikler for lunch tomorrow – don’t know that he’ll be of much use, now, since I’ve already been to the Con where he works. We’ll see. How’s Fred? [the cat] Love, Anyway, Mike.

19.9.67 - Considering the ballet

Sydney 19.9.67

Well,

Peggy van Praagh

here is my first day overdue – and I’m still up in the air. Unless something comes up I should be starting home later this week, but ---- (Heh, heh, heh!) last night I went to Don Giovanni (see below) and met Gerald Krug there. (He’s now to be the Ballet Conductor - I think I told you, didn’t I?) He came over to me and said, Had I ever done any ballet work, and I said only local groups at home, and he said would I be interested, and I said, if there wasn’t any other work available it was certainly better than nothing (very hard to sound keen and not so keen in the same sentence!). Well, he said he was going to see Miss Van Praagh (she seems to run the Ballet) tomorrow (that is, today) and if they needed me, would I be interested? So I said, yes, but that I couldn’t improvise or anything for them warming up etc; he seemed to think that that was a minor problem, and so he’s setting about it today. Well, that could be interesting, to say the least. For one thing I scarcely know any of the music, and it’s only about three and a bit weeks! Scream! But we’ll wait and see what happens.

I’m supposed to meet Robert Pikler today at lunch; I find he’s working at the Con, where I’ve already been (think I’ve told you), but it might be interesting (!) to see what happens when I go there with someone on the inside and don’t try and approach it from the outer as before.

Jim Sharman

Don Giovanni as produced in Aussie has been generally disliked in other towns, particularly Melbourne, I believe, and I find this hard to understand. The main cause of the trouble has been the set which consists of nothing but a chequerboard pattern not flat on the floor, but on an angle. [2018: raked, I presume.] It’s black and white, but with various lightings appears as several other colours throughout. With the exception of a couple of chairs (shaped like rooks) and a square table there is nothing else to dress the stage at all. The whole thing is surrounded by black drapes which people vanish into as exits. I felt, however, that nothing else was needed; DG is a fairly lively show, and the actors did plenty of wandering around, so I don’t feel it got boring. (Last night was youth night – for those under 26) (and they really enjoyed it – even laughed when the poor old Father got killed!). The producer is Jim Sharman, just 21, (and a friend of Glenda’s) and I think he’s done a very good job. The characters are all well defined (they’re all well written anyway) and we don’t have those funny little gaps that normally occur in opera production – I liked it!

The costumes were fabulous. Not done in black and white (fortunately – that would have been a bit much!) but rather in a muted red, and various blazing whites, and blacks with large chunks of gold etc on them. All the characters at the beginning came down during the overture to the front of the stage, and donned these hats and crowns that the chorus men gave them. The procedure was reversed at the end. I like it!

No more news just now, I’ll see if I can’t put this in with the letter from yesterday which I haven’t posted yet.

Love, Mike.

22.11.23 It's taken me five years to realise that two pieces of text in this post were transposed into an incorrect place. That sometimes happened when pictures were included. Anyway, corrected now.

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.

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

8.9.67 Making contact

Postmarked 8 Sept 67

SYDNEY! (Though except for the doubledeckers it could be home.) [Good grief!]

Courtesy Ferdous

Well, the weather here hasn’t so far been all it should – it’s been alternately hot and raining all day. And guess what – I now have a Saul – and like his counterpart he’s been misbehaving – in the first real gust of wind he blew himself inside out!!  [Presumably an umbrella but why a 'Saul' is now lost in the mists of time.] And broke two of the little hinges off. I’ve fixed one, I think, (now that I’m back at the hotel) but the other has lost the bit that holds it together – may be able to use a bit of cunning - we’ll see. Felt a bit silly walking along with along with a slightly flattened umbrella – but it’s only been necessary in the dark after the pictures and anyway it was better than getting soaked, which almost happened at lunch-time.

A long and busy day. Rang up Lovejoy (Glenda’s friend) and he wasn’t in till 11.00 (but made friends with his (middle-aged) secretary and we had a bit of a chat. [Lovejoy was my ‘contact’ in Oz to try and put me onto the ‘right’ people. Glenda Ferrall was my friend from the NZ Opera Company’s Die Fledermaus tour.] Rang Anne [Newbury, the oboist I later stayed with] but she was out too. Rang Cecil – I never thought that he would be one of these slow, slow, speakers. (One of the kind that has never finished when you start talking.) [Cecil Purdy, one of my father’s best and oldest friends and supporters. A top chess player in Oz.] However, we had a bit of a yarn, and he said to call in and see him if I was going to be in town. Went exploring around here again – constant delights at every turn, plus sudden downpours! I’m just a wee way from Elizabeth Bay, five minutes’ walk in fact, and when it was sunny this morning, it was beaut. The sun always dried me out, anyway. Rang back Lovejoy, appointment for 4.30 this arvo. Went into town (after nearly forgetting letter to Lovejoy) and finished up having a long leisurely lunch with Mr Purdy. He’s got a cute wee shop up on the second floor – you probably know it [she probably didn’t, since she had lived in Melbourne] - and I met his secretary and his junior girl. The secretary, Mrs Shiel (a Dooley [Catholic], so Cecil informs me) was very pleasant and we three had quite a chat both before and after lunch (which Cecil paid for, in spite of my arguments.) He’s a nice old fellow when he gets talking, which we did. We rang up Pikler, and I’ve got to get in touch with him on Saturday. [Robert Pikler, a contact at the Sydney Conservatorium.]

Went to the Massive Public Library (after going round and round in circles, in and out of arcades, into two parts of the David Jones Ladies' shop, trying to get an umbrella), after lunch. It’s tremendous, in every sense, but seems to have a lack of system. [I didn’t understand it, more likely.] Upstairs there’s a part called the Mitchell Library, housing old prints and pictures and original diaries and letters etc. There were several Brothers (Christian) there and one of them was the brother of a boy I went to school with – name of Vincent (I went with Colin – but don’t know this one’s name). He’s the fellow whose face was all scarred and burnt – but I introduced meself (never actually met him before) and we had quite a wee chat! Isn’t it funny?

Finally got out to the University where Lovejoy is, after dying a thousand deaths, and being late – the bus took much longer than planned – and this was where me umbrella blew up! Anyway, he was busy with some people, so I talked to his secretary again, Miss Lonsdale, she is, until he was ready. [Seem to make a habit of this on this trip – the confidence of youth.] [2018 – or it could be that this was a useful trait: getting to know people.]

He was very helpful; besides giving me a list of names – ‘tell them Jack sent you’ so to speak, of others that might be useful for jobs, he personally rang Stephen Hall, who was the guy I’d been writing to, and passed him onto me. I audition on Monday, playing the pieces, probably, and possibly doing a bit of sightreading for some singers who are going to audition. So!! Here’s hoping. There seems to be plenty of things going on here, even if I don’t get in with the Trust meantime, so here’s hoping I’ll be back here soon! [Elizabethan Theatre Trust, which also covered opera at that time.]

Went to a terrible movie – a Walt Disney, too! Called The Ugly Dachshund – and it was too terrible. Everybody looked slightly bored, including the animals, (who had to create one horrible unfunny mess after the other). UGH! [1966 move with Dean Jones and Suzanne Pleshette, the staples of Disney movies of that period. Leonard Maltin thinks it is ‘silly’ too.] In the first half was the Winnie the Pooh film which was only about 20 minutes long – it wasn’t terribly successful either, but still a Disney cartoon. Must go XXX See ya, Love to you and Fred. Mike

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