The Autobiography of My Father

by Martin Edmond

  Do you know the name of the boat?

  No, I don’t. But he was a Cornishman. Hence the Trevarthen.

  Do you know her maiden name?

  No. But they … the grandparents talked of hearing the guns of the Maori Wars in the Waikato, in Auckland. In the 1860s. They’d just arrived. I don’t remember them but my mother tells me I saw them, but I wouldn’t know. Trevarthens.

  What about Charlie’s parents?

  Well, they lived in Australia. Their name was McLeod. His mother’s name was McLeod, hence my brother’s Donald McLeod. And he was a builder, a contractor.

  This is the Edmond side?

  Yeah. And … his old man died of booze.

  Which probably explains his … temperance.

  That’s right. Never touched it. Never. Nor did Don. Well, Don did, actually. He doesn’t remember it, but he did.

  Was that in some childhood situation?

  Oh, he was a young joker. We had a big garage at Seatoun, on Inglis Street, and I remember he and Bob Lancaster, a friend of his, having beer there, but he denies it now. [LAUGHS] That’s fair enough.

  I remember you telling me Charlie got sent over to New Zealand at quite a young age …

  He was the thirteenth child and his father died and he was sent over to Auntie Maggie who was the oldest of the family, to live with her. In Auckland.

  So Ada, your mother, was growing up in Herne Bay …

  They met at the church. The Methodist Church.

  And that’s about the time of the First World War?

  They got married about 1914 and he went off to France then, as a YMCA Secretary …

  He wasn’t a soldier …?

  No, a YMCA Secretary. He only had one eye. I saw him taking it out and putting it in a glass of water.

  How old were you then?

  About ten. About ten.

  And I remember you telling me you were absolutely astonished.

  I couldn’t believe it! [PAUSE] So he went to the war and came back in … 1919. I was his first thought after he got home. I was born in 1920.

  So Don was conceived before Charlie went over to France …?

  That’s right.

  What sort of war did Charlie have?

  Oh, he was in France. I don’t know much about that, he didn’t talk about it much.

  And all the time he was overseas Ada was living …?

  At home. Auckland. When he came home he got this job as YMCA Secretary and they shifted to Wellington. To Marama Crescent which is in Wadestown.

  So his involvement with the YMCA, did that come via the Methodist Church?

  Yes, mainly.

  So all his working life, until 1931, he was …?

  He was YMCA. He was General Secretary of it, for New Zealand. Then the Depression came, it was a voluntary organisation and there was no more money. He got this lucky break.

  Into Todd Motors. And the rest of his working life …?

  No, not quite. He was Secretary … he was Manager of Todd Motors till about 19 … [LONG PAUSE] oh, 40. Then he became General Secretary of the Motor Trade Association and the Petrol Retailers. And did it very well.

  What do you remember of your father?

  The memories aren’t very pleasant. He was a domineering guy. Autocratic. He gave my mother a bad time, I thought.

  In what way?

  He didn’t consider her very much. She used to confide in me. Wasn’t good for me, as a kid.

  At what age?

  Oh, about fifteen.

  And what would that situation be like?

  She never worked, she was a housewife … Well, not since the war, First World War. She was a music teacher.

  A music teacher?

  Yes, she had her letters in music, and played piano.

  Oh, no, I didn’t ever know that.

  Yeah, she had qualified, she was a teacher of music.

  Was there a piano in your house when you grew up?

  Yes, we always had one.

  And did she play it?

  Yes. A lot.

  And she continued to play it all her life?

  No, she died off after a while, it was sold. But, ah, when I was a kid she was playing.

  But she didn’t take pupils any more after she was married?

  No. No. Not to my knowledge.

  And what do you remember of your mother?

  I have very fond memories of my mother. She wasn’t a terribly intelligent person but she was a very kind and decent person and we were very close. She wanted a daughter and she thought I should have been the daughter.

  And all she got was three sons.

  That’s right. But she was a good person. But limited. But nothing nasty, I never heard her say anything nasty about anybody.

  What were the recreations? What did they do to relax?

  Went to church.

  This is the Methodist Church, still?

  Well … there was no Methodist church at Seatoun, there was only one at Worser Bay, so … because that was a dangerous road to walk along, on a Sunday, it was a holiday resort … and we went to the Presbyterian church at Seatoun …

  And when you were a child would you have gone to church every Sunday?

  Went to Sunday school and church, every Sunday. No work. Couldn’t even do your homework.

  So it was a very strict, religious …?

  Very strict. He was a lay preacher. A very strict upbringing. No work on Sundays.

  Going back to Lyall Bay, what do you remember of what it was like then?

  Lots of things. Went to school, used to walk to school. I desperately wanted to have fish and chips for lunch. All the other kids did. My mother wouldn’t let me. But she [LAUGHS] said I could bring them home and sit on the front doorstep and have them.

  Did you used to go down to the beach?

  Oh, a lot. Lyall Bay. And go swimming. A lot of swimming. The other thing I remember vividly is slipping on a banana skin on the guttering outside the house and having hurt myself quite badly. I slipped on this banana skin, cut myself over the eyebrow.

  Did you used to go to the pictures at all?

  No, not … later on in Seatoun, not in Lyall Bay. There was no pictures there.

  Do you remember what sort of pictures you’d see in Seatoun?

  Oh, yeah, Nanook of the North. Have you heard of that? A serial. It wasn’t a proper picture theatre, it was in the church hall and they had a matinee every Saturday afternoon. Cost you threepence. They were Tom Mix – you probably haven’t heard of these people – cowboy films. And all this Nanook of the North, I think it was thirty episodes or something like that.

  And you’d try and see every one?

  Oh, yeah. It cost threepence. But in the Depression we weren’t allowed to go. Couldn’t even afford … that was the finish of things.

  Do you remember times being very hard in the Depression?

  Oh, yeah, they were hard all right.

  How did it affect your family?

  Oh, well, my mother worked in soup kitchens. We were not too, we weren’t as bad as some people, and she used to work and we used to get our soup from her, from soup kitchens. But we weren’t, weren’t desperate but we had to be very careful. My father of course was a Nationalist. But he actually voted Labour in 1935.

  Do you remember that election?

  I certainly do. It’s the only time he ever voted Labour.

  There must have been a few people like that?

  Oh, a lot of them. I remember it all right, yeah.

  Was the mood of the people very optimistic?

  After it? Oh, yeah, tremendously so. Tremendously so. Ever heard of Uncle Scrim? Well, he used to have a programme on Sunday nights called The Friendly Road. And they recorded things and they blocked him off. Ever heard of this?

  No.

  They installed a transmitter at Auckland to block out the broadcast. To interfere with the broadcast on the night, right before the election.

  Were you politically aware at that age?<
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  Yes.

  Do you think it was to do with the Depression?

  Oh yeah. It was unbelievable. I saw meat rotting in the railway yards at Wellington. They wouldn’t give it away. They couldn’t sell it so they just destroyed it. It was a shocking time.

  And I have a memory of you telling me one of your neighbours died of hunger.

  Apu Crescent. Next to Puriri Crescent. Backed onto our place. 1930. Before we shifted to Seatoun. Starvation. Mind you, he could have got help. To be quite fair, he could have gone and got some help, he wouldn’t, he was too proud to do that. And there were a few like that.

  So then you were at Rongotai College. What is your memory of that school?

  Not bad, I was a bit put out, I was put into Form 1B … you know what happened? It so happened that I’d been to Lyall Bay school but the Seatoun kids who all came to have the test, by chance, had already seen it, before the day of the test at Rongotai College. They all passed it, they all got into the top form, they’d all seen it before. And I hadn’t seen it before. But that … so my first year was in 1B, Form 1B and then the next year I got promoted to Form 2A along with all these Seatoun guys. That year was a good year.

  And you did generally very well at school?

  Yeah, I was Dux.

  And you played sport?

  I played rugby and cricket. I ran in the athletics.

  I know that later in your youth you went yachting. When did that begin?

  Before the war. After I left school, about 1938. A friend of mine from Rongotai, Penn Moore, his father was a boat builder, and they built a boat, an Idlalong and he asked me and a friend of mine, my best friend who was killed in the war, called Traff Nichol, we were the two crew members. Worser Bay Yachting Club.

  And that was a small yacht?

  Idlalong. Sixteen foot by five foot six. A centreboard. It was a standard type of yacht in those days.

  And you would go sailing …?

  Every Saturday. And sometimes Sunday.

  And was that purely for pleasure or did you go into races?

  Oh, we raced, we weren’t fussed about that. Traff was the mainsheet hand and I was the forward hand. And Penn was the skipper. And we raced and went into championships but it wasn’t a big deal, we just enjoyed doing it.

  And how long had you known Traff Nichol for? When did he come into your life?

  Oh, he lived in Seatoun, we were friends from about … [LONG PAUSE] … about 1930 onwards. He was my best friend. Hell of a nice guy. He got killed in the first bomber raid over Berlin. He was a co-pilot. He hadn’t even flown a plane.

  After you left school, what did you do?

  My father put me in a law office. They were his lawyers. Morrison, Spratt, Morrison & Taylor. They were Todd Motors’ lawyers. I started an LL B. You had this job and went to lectures.

  So how long did you study the law for?

  Two years.

  And I assume that wasn’t really what you wanted to do?

  I didn’t like it at all. My father … my father and mother went overseas for a trip to England … just before the war, in 1939. And while they were away I applied for Training College. My old man was very pissed off. I was accepted and I went. He never forgave me for that.

  Didn’t he do something with your army pay?

  Yeah. When I went overseas I owed him some money because when I was at varsity I couldn’t afford to keep myself properly, and pay … I got fifteen … [LONG PAUSE] What am I trying to say?

  Fifteen pounds?

  Nowhere near that. Fifteen shillings. Shillings. I got … fifteen shillings a week. And the tram fare cost three and six a week and I couldn’t manage to buy clothes and things so he gave me money. When I went overseas we had this system of allotments, have you heard about that? Well, New Zealand servicemen had to make an allotment home, you didn’t get all your pay, you had to pay a certain amount of it back to an account at home. Which I did. And he took the first six months of it. [LAUGHS] He said I owed him that money.

  So all this time in the law office, you’re living at home?

  Oh, yes. And at varsity.

  And is, Don and Brian, are they living at home too?

  We were all home. Till the war came. We were all at home.

  When did your association with the Communist Party begin?

  At varsity, 1938. Before the war. While I was in the law office.

  What happened there?

  Well, we had a cell. Victoria University. We used to have meetings, talk revolution. Pretty childish in some ways.

  You were an actual card-carrying member of the Communist Party? It wasn’t illegal?

  Not until the Russia/Germany Compact. They outlawed the Communist Party then. The Russian/German Treaty.

  And what did you do …?

  Handed out pamphlets … we weren’t terribly effective.

  Did you resign your membership?

  No. After I came back from the war … Lauris had joined too. We went along to a meeting in Lambton Quay and both resigned.

  So tell me about the war? Where were you when the war broke out?

  Well, when the war broke out I applied for the Air Force. I was actually in the Army, in the Scottish Regiment, I did a three-month camp with them in 1940 in Wanganui.

  Were you conscripted into that?

  Conscripted, it was all conscription. And I spent three months in Spriggins Park in Wanganui as a private and then after three months we were sent back, we’d done our training. And then when the Japs came into the war, we were all called up. But I’d applied for the Air Force in the meantime, so I didn’t go in the call up …

  Why did you apply for the Air Force?

  Oh, I thought I’d be a bloody hero … I hated the Army. We had stupid buggers instructing us. Jokers with no brains at all. And I just, I got fed up with it. And I applied for the Air Force.

  As a card-carrying member of the Communist Party‚ did you feel it was your war? Or the capitalists’ war?

  I was anti-Nazi. That was the strongest feeling. Against what they were doing.

  How much did you know about the Nazis? Did you know about the persecution of the Jews?

  Oh, yes. I knew that. Yeah, I knew that.

  Did you know that they were executing homosexuals and gypsies?

  Yes.

  So you were quite aware …?

  Well, the Communist Party was aware of it.

  Which I suppose made the Russian/German Pact even more of a betrayal?

  A terrible betrayal. It really was.

  You were already overseas with the Air Force at that stage?

  [PAUSE] No, I was in training with the Air Force, in New Zealand. And I got into trouble … I was turned down for air crew, because of my eyesight, and I got into the Met. Office and I was sent to Kelburn, the Meteorological Office in Kelburn, and I left these – I was silly enough to leave these Communist leaflets that I had around on the table. And some guy read them and put me up.

  And what happened then?

  I got abused. Distrusted. By the authorities.

  Where did you go overseas?

  Well, we had to report to Woodburn in New Plymouth for training and then I was posted overseas to Fiji. I spent about six months in Fiji and then another chap, Joe Sullivan, and myself were sent to Tonga to set up a new Met. Station there. I was there for about six months.

  What was the name of the place in Tonga?

  Fu’uamotu. The airfield. And then I was posted from there via Suva back up to Espiritu Santo in the New Hebrides, where I spent about four months. Then I was posted to Guadalcanal in the Solomons where I spent a couple of months. Then I was posted to Halavo Bay which is in the Solomons but which was an Air Force Catalina flying-boat base and I was stationed there for about four months. And I came home from there via the Solomons and Fiji and back to New Zealand.

  Tell me about the land crabs?

  Oh, the land crabs, yeah. Well … our hut in Halavo Bay was right on the beach. I left my boo
ts out one night, to dry out and when I [LAUGHS] came back in the morning they were gone. I found them chewed up down by the … right on the sea shore. Because the land crabs had eaten them up. So I watched a few nights – they used to come out of the sea and eat anything in sight. Huge things, about, a couple of feet wide. And very hungry.

  Were they dangerous?

  Not unless you attacked them yourself. If you attacked them they’d attack you but they weren’t predators.

  And there was a story about meeting Queen Salote and her maids-in-waiting.

  They’d been to school. Queen Victoria College in Auckland and they spoke English very well, they knew all about New Zealand and about England. Joe and I used to go in on the motorbike and they had a room at the back of the palace where they held court and we used to sing and do hakas and talk to them. It was good fun. They were nice girls.

  Do you remember any names from that period?

  Only Moana. Not the others.

  And on some occasions you met the Queen herself?

  Yeah, she came in and said hello sometimes. Very gracious. Huge woman. Seventeen stone. But a very shrewd old lady. She got the Yanks to build all sorts of roads in Tonga while they were there. But she kept them afterwards. So they improved the place as far as she was concerned. And when I was at Fu’uamotu I used to go and teach school. There was a village school down the road and when I wasn’t on duty I went down and taught English to the kiddies. There were about forty of them. Under two native teachers. And they didn’t speak very good English themselves but I was able to teach English to them. And at the end of the year, at the prize-giving, I made the prize-giving speech. Through an interpreter. At the local school. Handed out the prizes.

  What year would this have been?

  ’43.

  It sounds as if Tonga was a place you were quite happy in?

  Yeah, I was very happy there.

  Even though there was a war going on?

  Well, we were far removed. Except, a couple of times we … a couple of times … have you heard of the Liberty Ships? That the Yanks had? They carried aircraft parts and all sorts of munitions and twice while I was there they were sunk off the coast of Tonga by Japanese submarines and we had to entertain the survivors. The funny thing was that each time it happened, the telephone – we had a local telephone exchange in our office, and the lines were cut the night before it happened.