Letters From Everest

by George Lowe, Huw Lewis-Jones, Jan Morris, Peter Hillary

  I have received letters and cables from – well here are a few – Greater Hastings, Mayor Jaycees, Junior Chamber of Commerce, Herald Tribune (a very nice one), High School, Wgtn. Teachers Training College plus a letter from principal Jonah, Hillary’s Otamauri School, (John Paton), Waiwhare, Chapmans, Luxtons, Thorsbys, Miss Roy, Jim Rose, Alpine Club, Hills, Harry Ayres, Chris, Mabel, Jenny, Poppy, Arch, Geoff Milne, Heretaungas, N.Z. Educational Institute, Dick and Helen Arthur, Doug Ashby, all old girl friends! and Betty and lots more. I must admit it is all rather pleasant getting this flood.

  In two days the social round will begin. Five days we have in Katmandu and are booked for more social functions than five! The King is coming out to Badgaon (the road end) to meet us for a civic reception – just as we are – dirty, unshaven and hungry.

  Then we fly to Delhi and meet Nehru and all that and fly to England on 1st or 2nd July. What a do! I won’t be going to Bombay and will have to get stuff there sent on.

  Sir Edmund is well – as are all the boys. We got the knighthood news on 14th as we came over a pass, and Ed wouldn’t believe it. Then he nearly passed out when an official note came from Summerhayes, the Ambassador. He was most embarrassed. All the lads are pleased that he and John got it – but it was a bit of a shock to see how wildly enthusiastic England had gone about all this. Ed said “If I see Philip, I’ll tell him he’s overdoing it a bit. This knighthood business is going too far!” The enthusiasm which has been shown over the success was absolutely unexpected and it wasn’t until the knighthood came through that we realised how deeply it had gone.

  I’m looking forward to all the official do’s and famous meetings – I expect we’ll get sick of it, but it will be a worthwhile experience.

  Thanks for cuttings and letters. And thanks especially to Mum for the one from her.

  Katmandu

  22nd June 1953

  Back again. This town is a mad-house, all gone crazy about Tenzing. Unfortunately the whole thing is political squabbling and the superiority of the Eastern races and the dirt flying is rather sticky. The arrival in Katmandu was an absolute ‘Alice in Wonderland’ scene of pantomime – it would take a dozen pages to tell – more anon perhaps. But just imagine us all there in tennis shoes and stinking shirts, bearded, hungry and dying for a bath. Pugh was in a pair of pyjamas, just as he had been during his walk out from Namche. A royal reception at the palace with Tenzing and family, Ed and John and 8 others in a royal coach (to hold four!!) drawn by four wild chestnut horses. T. received the equivalent of knighthood, while John and Ed got the Order of the Ghurkha Right Hand – 1st Class.

  Every afternoon and night there were official receptions, cocktail parties, then dinners and all taken much too seriously by us. I’m lucky – I’m looking after the repacking, labelling and sending of baggage and excused these ‘dos’.

  We are flying to Patna 25th June, where I shall be recording a talk for All India Radio. John and Ed are going to Calcutta. Then we fly to Delhi on 26th and are caught up by John and Ed. There we meet Nehru and dozens of other Indian receptions. On 1st July we fly to London.

  Thanks for many things, Betty. The food parcels, the cakes, the photos of Jenny’s new boy, the sending of letters (it’s O.K. to send these but repeat the note about copyright.)

  Yes I shall want my overcoat. The parcel containing the woollen shirts has not come yet and I’ll get the Embassy to send them on.

  I haven’t been able to write any letters since returning and I think my output will be greatly reduced for some time to come. Until I can write to Chris, would you thank her for the letter and the parcel of tongues – it is very kind of her.

  Thanks for the Coronation stamps – Tom Stobart is delighted – and for many other things thanks.

  Give my regards to H.T.C., to Janet who wrote from Auckland, Norm E. and many others. Love to Mum and Dad and the brothers and sisters.

  More from India – if not then England.

  Cheers, George.

  Wengers Hotel, Delhi

  26th June 1953

  Dear Betty,

  Rest and peace at last – the heat, a searing 112°F plus high humidity is a little discomodium but the private flat with fans and a very efficient personal valet in the U.K. High Commissioner’s set of private flats is very, very pleasant.

  Wow – another wallop of mail from England, Australia, Norway, America, N.Z. and S. Africa – what fun it is to have a fan mail. Already unknown women are writing – this is quite fun. Most are N.Z.ers who knew me and are now spread over the globe.

  I should try and get down some of the happenings in Katmandu – I’ll never recapture the whole tale, as it was more fantastic and fast moving than the ascent days.

  On 20th June we reached Katmandu, but I must hop back to the morning of the 18th when we reached a place called Chaubas, the last camp with a view of the Himalaya and the cool breezes of 7,000 ft. It was a pleasant camp and everyone was beginning to feel the excitement of seeing the Embassy, of baths, silver salvers, wine with the meat course and long, lazy sofas.

  On the 19th we were ready for away at 5 a.m., and pushed off for the long 4,500 ft drop to the Sun Kosi river and heat. As we left, I saw Tenzing surrounded by some Nepalis and in heated conversation. We greeted them and passed on. As we jolted down the track we passed a stream of people going up and they wanted to know where Tenzing and Hillary were. Ed and I were together and looked so skinny and puny that they didn’t even think that Ed was who he was and passed on. Their main desire was to see Tenzing. We reached the Sun Kosi and there were a dozen newspaper men there with movie and still cameras and again they were mildly interested in us and sought Tenzing. T. came down and was surrounded, garlanded and covered with red powder (a doubtful honour being covered in this muck!).

  We breakfasted and moved on in ghastly heat to a place called Hooksey. John Hunt and his wife met us there – they had walked out one day’s march to meet us.

  He warned us of the furore that the ascent had caused in India and Nepal, and told us of the frantic bitterness that the Press had built up over (1) the nationality of T. and (2) his superiority over Europeans and cited how he had reached the summit ahead of Ed and so made Ed “the second conqueror of Mt. Everest”. All this was disappointing and rather disgusting after the great effort and the pleasure that we thought had been given.

  John was disturbed, and went to see Tenzing and warn him of the controversies he would meet. He met T. and was told by the band of Nepalis who were with him that they had a signed statement from T. to say (1) I am a Nepali and (2) I reached the top 15 ft ahead of Hillary.

  When T. heard this he was amazed but admitted that he had signed a paper, but complained that he could not read Nepali (in fact he cannot read or write – he can sign with his name in English and write his address).

  We spent the night at Hooksey and several rival bands of political party types, a tribe of camera men and a flush of reporters spent the night at our camp. (‘Life Magazine’, ‘Times’, ‘Daily Express’, ‘Daily Telegraph’, ‘Observer’, ‘Daily Mail’, A.P.A., Reuters, plus three Indian papers, were all represented by their best correspondents).

  Moving or talking was almost impossible without being photographed or overheard. Every newsman was ferreting for some ‘new angle’ and trying to keep it from the others. What a filthy system it all is – they slap each other on the back and drink together all the time double-crossing to scoop their companions.

  The morning following, we were shocked to hear the Indian radio brag about the statement that had been obtained from T. to say that he had reached the top ahead of Ed – the radio went on to say how he had guided and pulled the party up Everest. The team effort was forgotten and the fact that Ed and T. as a ‘rope’ were a climbing unit was carefully squashed. Old John went hopping mad but after consultation realised the political implications and regretfully decided to avoid a row – which, it seems, is exactly what was wanted. And so to cut a tedious story short, we approached K
atmandu feeling disillusioned about the sacrifices made to put T. on top, about politics, newspapers and all plainsmen in general.

  On 20th we set out at 5 a.m. and after five hours walking reached Banepa where jeeps and cars had managed the rough route. Thousands were there to meet us. Three distinct Nepali political parties were competing with each other crying “Tenzing Zindabar”, “Tenzing Nepali Ho!” “The first man to conquer Mt. Everest” (this by one man with a loud speaker and followed by the party marching and crying in rhythm) “Tenzing Sherpa”.

  The noise, the amplifiers, the crowds, the cheer leaders and excitement was most moving – moving me and the other boys to disgust and the Nepalis to a frenzy of hero worship. T. arrived and was swept onto a prepared stage, garlanded and cheered. John and Ed were at first left out then someone decided to push them up. All in all, it was a riotous shambles, where John and Ed were treated most rudely. Luckily we were quite ignored, popped into some friendly jeeps and pushed off for Katmandu.

  A triumphal procession had been arranged – for Tenzing – and they drove to the outskirts of Katmandu, the route lined with people. A dozen triumphal arches had been built with pictures of T. on Everest holding the Nepal flag, T. on top pulling up Ed, who was on his knees, and so on. At the edge of the city we passed the royal carriage with four horses – all decorated over lavishly with flowers and finery. I nearly hurt myself laughing when I thought of Ed and John in a carriage and four driving to the palace in this. The mixture of ceremony and ludicrous farce caused us no end of mirth. If the whole show had been filmed you would think on seeing it, to be an overdrawn mixture of Chaplin, Laurel and Hardy with the Marx Brothers thrown in.

  On the team’s return to Kathmandu thousands of people came out to meet Tenzing. Triumphal arches declared his victory and the frenzied crowds roared in celebration.

  Finally, the ‘honoured’ three arrived and clambered aboard the four-man carriage, along with the chairman of the reception committee – then Mrs. Tenzing and her two daughters – and two postillions, and two women leaders of the reception committee, and one other unidentified body. Twelve in all in the four-man royal coach!

  Tenzing set on a vegetable crate high in the centre. Ed and John were polite and waited for the ladies to be seated and finished by having standing room and they promptly sat on the floor with just their heads poking over the coach sides. Nepali hats were popped on their heads, a couple of garlands round their necks and dusted with a red powder in their hair and faces (a mark of honour).

  The crowds surged and roared and squashed in unchecked, the horses plunged and fought with postillions, and with a jerk that toppled everyone in the carriage, they set off. I shall never forget the mirth it caused us. John and Ed were by this time browned off and smarting under the indelicacy with which they were being received. It was true, but we laughed on. Their treatment was highly insulting, while more seriously still T. was not being treated as a returning Hero – but a God. The national feeling that the climb by T. had aroused was the strongest ever raised in Nepal and in the next three days it manifest itself in many ways, particularly in a hatred of India.

  This was the first political demonstration I had ever seen and there I saw the Communist party with wild mad cheer leaders growing hoarse, backed by hundreds of school kids who chanted the slogans. It was quite a disturbing sight to see how effective they were.

  Thus began the triumphal procession which lasted two hours and pulled up at the town hall. There Ed, John and T. appeared on the balcony and speeches were made. Then Ed and John who had seen us waved from the balcony and carelessly wandered to the parapet, sat on it with legs dangling over the crowd, tired, thirsty, dirty, but now the humour of it caught them and forgetting respect and decorum, they burlesqued without disguise.

  From the Town Hall the procession went to the King’s Palace. All this time we followed in a jeep – Greg and Tom sat on the bonnet while I sat on the roof, bearded, dirty, in a torn shirt and tennis shoes. I had a great view of everything, and because of my conspicuous position and Ed’s inconspicuous one in the well of the coach, I received (and acknowledged) many cheers on his behalf. Whenever Ed and John caught sight of us, we waved and laughed, and their faces lost their gloomy looks and they enjoyed the joke on their ignominious situation.

  We reached the Palace at 7 p.m. – Ed and John had been continuously in a procession and in the coach for 7½ hours without drink, food, or a chance to relieve themselves and they were tired. Ed had a cold which took his voice clean away, they were covered in brownish red powder, and with Nepali hats they looked just like a couple of Cairo wags.

  At the Palace, a company of Gurkas sloped arms, the band played anthems, horns tooted, while scarlet-coated footmen rushed around. We all went up the marble stairs and into the huge, gaudy, chandeliered hall and sat with the dignitaries (a misnomer!!) of Nepal. The P.M. received us – the Queens (1st and 2nd) and the King. The ceremony was short and to the point.

  First T. was given the title “Star of the Twilight” and a sash with a large star similar to the Garter star. He is entitled to call himself Tara Tenzing (the equivalent of highest knighthood – a rare honour in this country, usually bestowed on royalty, Ranas, and Maharajahs only). Then Ed received a citation in English and Nepali, plus a crimson sash and a maroon and silver star and the title of “Gurka Right Hand – First Class” (there are four classes). John got the same.

  But the form and the dress we were in was most amusing. Ed was in ski trousers and wind jacket, John in shorts, tennis shoes and army command jacket, most of us in tennis shoes with torn shirts and all with beards. Griff Pugh was most ludicrous in a pair of stripped pyjamas and four months of red hair over his ears. That, I’m sure, will be the only royal investiture in such disreputable rig.

  After that we were more or less free. John and Ed reached the Embassy more exhausted than they had been on Everest. We had a wonderful dinner at the Embassy and fell into bed about midnight.

  The next four days were tough for Ed and John, with political navigation in treacherous waters – mixed with receptions, tea parties, press conferences, where the Press tried to “get the truth” – in other words get a difference in stories between Ed and T. and then make capital of it. Tenzing was offered 2 lakhs of rupees (200,000 rupees) to say he reached the top first. He refused to and appealed to John (this was his first chance to talk to John without being ‘shepherded’ by his Nepali friends who were brow-beating and trying to force his hand) – and between John and Koirala, the P.M., they gave him a permanent police escort.

  I escaped the daily official affairs and spent three days with Wilf Noyce in packing and making an inventory of the equipment being shipped to England (tents, primuses, oxygen sets for demonstration, 50 oxygen bottles R.A.F. being returned, wirelesses, tools, pressure cookers, crampons, ice axes, and so on).

  The first evening was taken up with a reception and cocktail party at the British Embassy followed by a banquet dinner. The next with a similar reception at the Indian Embassy followed by a buffet dinner with the officers of the Indian Military mission – we had a band playing dinner music and all – just like the films. I forget where the last night was – oh yes – we had a barbecue with the American colony – 11 families living communally and working on agricultural education and aid – called Point Four Plan.

  Two days ago John, Ed, Tenzing and Greg flew to Calcutta for two days of formality and today they are due in for four more here.

  Two days ago, we (Pugh, Stobart, Noyce, Band, Westmacott and self) flew to Patna from Katmandu. Stayed a night there – where I met a Mary O’Connell from Dunedin (Med. School lecturer) who is doing U.N.E.S.C.O. work in T.B. Stayed the night with her and flew here yesterday, stopping en route at Benares and Lucknow. (5 hour flight in Dakota – the Indian inland airways are very slap-happy, badly timed and careless.) A dust storm over Delhi held us up for 2 hours and we came in on a very shaky landing.

  And now the political aspects of this are dying
down. The various stories of who was first? what nationality is T.? did we say T. was a poor climber? – and a dozen other bits of nastiness have almost gone from the Indian press. It seems a fact that the Indian Press in general are very anti-British and their vituperative abilities are most ably developed. The virtuosity they show in twisting a story is far greater than any British paper!

  News of the Everest triumph soon spread around the world and images of expedition members were used across all sorts of advertising.

  There is another chapter that should be written to this tale. I’ve given snatches of it before, because it began with Izzard at the beginning – The Press and Everest.

  The Press have sent their most experienced newsmen in to try and break the copyright of the ‘The Times’. They were prepared to pay anything to get to the big news – “Everest climbed” – first. ‘The Daily Telegraph’ had Colin Reid (a whisky soak and the nastiest piece of goods in the game) who spent £15,000 plus! (the cost of our whole expedition) in bribing and working for the news. He was paying £87 a week to have the telephones and telegraph system monitored and he covered the wireless waves too. He offered £5,000 to Fletcher, the Embassy wireless operator for the news.

  The Indian telegraph office here is rotten with graft and the correspondence haunted the office to milk the news from James Morris (the Times correspondent with us) despatches. All the newsmen here – quoting Morris, Hutchinson (Times), Matua (Telegraph), Smith (Daily Express), Jackson (Reuters) – all say “this is the worst, most cut-throat, double crossing newspaper war they have ever known”, and that it seems is saying something.

  The arguments as to whether the ‘Times’ has a right to world news and a copyright on the story is hotly debated. The Ambassador was attacked by the news-hawks to say he was aiding and abetting by sending the message in code through Foreign Office channels, questions were asked in ‘The House’ and so on. It’s a long, long tale of intrigue, squabble and bribery – a sordid, dirty chapter of the Everest story.