The Flying Kangaroo

by Jim Eames

  Despite this British perception, there was no doubting Turner’s consummate analytical skills as he rose through the airline’s administrative ranks. Working and travelling copious hours, Turner made his vision for Qantas his life, uncompromising to the point where he and Fysh disagreed on everything from international policy and government relations to industrial relationships with key groups within the Qantas camp, particularly its pilots.

  Those who watched the relationship deteriorate could often see it from both sides. Assistant general manager ‘Scottie’ Allan, who had been with Qantas since its earliest days, had worked closely with both men and acknowledged Fysh’s brand of loyalty and integrity had made Qantas what it was, but felt that Fysh was now unable to come to grips with the technical aspects of the modern era. Like several others he later described Fysh as a ‘nice’ person whose days had now passed.

  Allan, who admired Turner for his ability, once describing him as the ‘central strength of Qantas’, also regarded him as ‘remarkably selfish’ with an ability to be ‘nasty’ to people behind their back.

  Captain R.J. (Bert) Ritchie, technical director in the late 1950s and who himself later became the airline’s chief executive, describes Turner as ‘a man of great dominance, and coupled with that dominance, dictatorial and pretty sweeping in everything.

  ‘There was a great deal of animosity, in fact enmity, between Turner and Fysh. Turner regarded Fysh as a fool. I regarded Fysh as a sincere, well-meaning, highly ethical man, but a simple man. Not able to match it with scheming people like Turner—and I don’t mean that in a derogatory way. Turner was a general, seeing his way ahead.’

  Fysh himself was under no illusion about the relationship: ‘In the case of C.O. Turner and myself,’ he wrote, ‘there existed an association of two key people … who were as poles apart in their outlook on many vital human feelings, yet obliged to work together for the common good of Q.E.A.’

  While some of their colleagues wondered how it all worked, in terms of essential communications between the chairman and the general manager, it didn’t. But what did work was Turner’s vision, supported by a small, loyal team around him who created the template for the future expansion of the airline into Asia, Europe and the Middle East in those post-war years, where most of the countries Qantas flew to were not yet interested in reciprocal rights to Australia. It would be on his ‘watch’ too that critical aircraft decisions were made, such as the choice of the 707 over pressure from the UK to buy the Comet.

  But Turner’s brilliance came with an Achilles heel and one that was to further deepen the rift between him and his chairman. He had developed a drinking problem that, along with being anathema to his puritan chairman, would at times make him something of a figure of ridicule to staff. While any who remember him will first acknowledge his unparalleled place in Qantas management history, their stories of his battle with Queen Anne Scotch would become the stuff of legend throughout the company, still recounted whenever his name is mentioned today.

  Scottie Allan attests that Turner never drank during the workday but often succumbed the moment he boarded an aircraft, leading Allan to speculate it was not so much a fear of flying, as some suspected, but more a question of having nothing to do. Sadly this circumstance exposed his frailty to staff throughout the network.

  At times, it appears, he didn’t even know where he was. The story may be apocryphal, but Brian Wild tells of Turner on his way to Vienna to open a new Qantas office when his 707 stopped at Bangkok to refuel. Thinking he had already arrived at his destination, Turner is alleged to have walked to the front door of the Boeing and declared the Vienna office ‘open’ from the top of the airline steps!

  One of the more bizarre episodes is recalled by Ian Burns-Woods from the time he was a young traffic officer at Melbourne airport in 1959. Along with five of his colleagues, Burns-Woods had gathered in the tiny fibro shack that served as the Qantas traffic office to be informed by their boss of the impending visit by C.O. Turner aboard a Constellation.

  ‘His arrival would be at around 1500 hours the following day and we needed to ensure we were squeaky clean in crisp white uniform shirts and sharply creased blue trousers, all atop with our white peaked caps.

  ‘And don’t forget to polish your shoes, we were told. This man is astute and misses nothing.’

  Since the Super Constellations were notorious for engine problems, Burns-Woods’s team was not surprised when told that Turner’s aircraft had been delayed and would not now arrive until early evening. Six hours late, they stood in nervous anticipation at the foot of the aircraft steps as the door of the aircraft opened and a succession of passengers disembarked. Once the passengers had gone, Burns-Woods watched as a flight steward emerged gripping something with both hands.

  ‘With the aid of another crew member he slowly descended the steps carrying our long-awaited visitor on a stretcher!’ Stunned, and feeling like mourners at a funeral, they soon gathered that the occupant of the stretcher was not dead but was mumbling, while one arm hung limply over the side.

  Their aircraft duties completed, Burns-Woods’s team once again formed a line at the foot of the steps, farewelling the passengers as they embarked on the last leg of their journey to Sydney. ‘Then the stretcher reappeared and we resumed our silence while the cortege passed before us, back onto the aircraft. By now our illustrious leader was out cold, his arms folded across his chest like a revered dictator lying in state.

  ‘As the plane taxied away we were told that he drank heavily on aircraft because he hated flying. In this instance, because of the engine delay, I guess he got an early start.’

  Travelling with Turner while he negotiated with other airlines and aviation authorities worldwide could bring demands above and beyond the call of duty. Tom Roff, who negotiated Qantas’s dealings with other airlines, greatly admired Turner, but admits to having put his boss to bed overseas on several occasions. But others who travelled with him needed to be wary of what they said when Turner was ‘under the weather’ or even when he appeared to have fallen asleep. Jack Dawson, another of his loyal colleagues, can recall examples of members of Turner’s negotiating party making indiscreet comments about him while he was passed out after a drinking session. ‘Their careers often came to an abrupt halt once they realised he had not missed a thing,’ says Dawson.

  Turner’s behavioural indiscretions weren’t restricted to aeroplanes. George Howling, then serving in Hong Kong, remembers being invited to a dinner party at the Qantas Japan manager’s residence while C.O. Turner was in town. Howling and other guests, including UK poet Dame Edith Sitwell and several leading businessmen, were enjoying summer evening drinks overlooking the home’s spacious garden when ‘C.O.’, as he was known to all in Qantas, stood up and walked a few paces onto the lawn to relieve himself.

  ‘I thought Dame Edith was going to slide under the table,’ records Howling.

  Howling also confirms what many others would describe as the Jekyll-and-Hyde nature of Turner’s personality. ‘On the aircraft and with Qantas people around him he would drink and be unpleasant but on his own he could be charming. Often he would come to Hong Kong and spend a week there and wouldn’t get drunk. We would invite him to dinner parties with friends of ours who had nothing to do with airlines and he would be absolutely delightful company,’ says Howling.

  As time went by, those close to Turner became increasingly concerned his excessive drinking would destroy any chance he had to succeed Fysh as chairman. When speculation about Fysh’s successor arose in the press in the mid-1960s, one of his closest confidants, the airline press relations manager John Ulm, in a brutally frank personal note, left Turner in no doubt what was at stake.

  Ulm’s memo directly tackled the drinking problem, claiming it was leading to despair within his close-knit team in addition to affecting his image outside the company.

  But it was to no avail. In a decision made by Prime Minister Menzies and Treasurer Harold Holt—reportedly taken withou
t consultation with their Minister for Civil Aviation Senator Henty—the secretary of the Treasury, Sir Roland Wilson, already a member of the board, was appointed to take over as chairman from June 1966.

  Wilson’s pre-eminent role as Australia’s most influential financial practitioner led to inevitable tensions with Turner who, as with his relationship with Fysh, found it difficult to accept any constraints.

  Neither did Turner curb his drinking. Within twelve months of Fysh’s leaving Turner too would be gone, forced to retire at the age of 60 on 30 June 1967. Both harboured bitterness at their treatment: Fysh on the grounds that the company he founded had left him financially disadvantaged in his retirement; Turner feeling the pinnacle of his ambition had been denied him.

  16

  FLAWS AMONG THE BRILLIANCE

  ‘Who needs imperial honours when you have the Qantas board?’ Often attributed to former senator and Labor government minister Gareth Evans, these words sum up respective Australian governments’ use of Qantas appointments as political capital.

  When it comes to airlines there’s been a tendency to look at the most significant eras of their history through the prism of aeroplane development. Qantas is no exception, largely because, as the oldest airline in the English speaking world, its progress has been sharply defined from the wood, wire and fabric days of the DH-86 biplanes that operated its first overseas service in 1935, to the Constellations that circled the world in the 1950s, the Boeing 707 jets that slashed the Constellation flight times in half and into the mass travel era of the Boeing 747. But what’s often missing from that examination are the people who made it all happen, not only those who monitored technological developments, and assessed and recommended their value, but also those who took the enormously expensive decisions to invest in aircraft, infrastructure and support equipment.

  As with any human endeavour involving intelligent, highly motivated people, they have brought their own mix of personality and talent into a high-profile industry with constant political, technical and economic challenges. In the case of Qantas, through and beyond the days of McMaster, Fysh and Turner, those who have occupied positions at the very top of the airline’s structure—as chairmen, board directors or chief executives—often have been strong-willed people whose beliefs and ideas, not to mention egos, have had a marked impact on the airline during their time in office.

  Some enjoyed being the public face of the airline, pushing back against what they have seen as unwarranted government interference or pushing forward against commercial threats from other airlines and organisations, relishing the public exposure Qantas brings in the Australian context. Others, several of whom probably had the most significant impact on the airline’s future or its very survival, remain virtually unknown to anyone outside the airline itself.

  In the case of the airline’s chairmen and its board, at least until the privatisation of the airline in the mid-1990s, it is rarely possible to separate the influence of government from the way such appointments were made. In terms of chairmen, there were exceptions of course.

  Wilson’s appointment as his successor must have been difficult for Fysh to accept, particularly as, during the time Wilson had served on the board, the pair had clashed dramatically over gossip surrounding Wilson’s personal relationship with a member of the airline’s staff, Joyce Chivers. Chivers, who appears to have been a polarising character within the company, had been appointed without Fysh’s knowledge to the New York office in the 1950s, leading Fysh to suspect her appointment had been made behind his back by Wilson and Turner. Fysh subsequently ordered the airline’s security chief Gordon Fraser to check on the rumours about the nature of their relationship and the impact it was having on the company.

  Chivers, whom Ulm describes as ‘physically attractive but without much talent’ worked in Ulm’s public relations team, and became widely disliked throughout the company.

  Whatever the truth of her relationship with Wilson, any Qantas manager appointed to New York soon learnt to tread warily when it came to Chivers, who even knew before they did when board member Wilson was due in town, a situation that could lead to difficult moments for the manager. Peter Picken recalls on one occasion going to the airport with his company car and driver to meet Wilson only to find Chivers already there. Picken’s driver had parked the car on the kerb and, as Picken stepped forward to open the door, Wilson turned and asked for the car keys.

  Handed the keys, Wilson drove off with Chivers, leaving Picken and his driver to find their own way back to the office.

  When Chivers’s posting to the Americas region came to an end, other staff organised a party to coincide with her departure for Australia, gathering at a venue at San Francisco’s Fisherman’s Wharf, where John Fordham remembers holding up an open phone line through which the Qantas airport manager described her aircraft taxiing for take-off. Loud cheers went up as he confirmed its wheels had left the ground.

  Wilson doubtless brought financial rigidity to the airline and his extensive network, established over so many years at the top of the public service, certainly helped the airline in its relationship with Canberra. Rare though they may have been in Wilson’s case, even he would contribute to one of the airline’s lighter moments.

  Wilson lived in a pleasant, single-storey home in Forrest, one of the national capital’s better suburbs, in a house that he used as a hobby, having done much of the improvement work himself. Set some distance back from the road behind a high hedge, one of its features a metre or so inside the front gate was a metre-deep fish pond built from native rocks and decorated with water plants.

  During his time as Canberra manager, John Picken had the responsibility for ensuring that Wilson’s Qantas board papers, flown from Sydney a few days before the board meeting, were delivered promptly to its chairman. These were not the type of documents one trusted to a courier and needed to be personally delivered.

  Picken remembers it was the middle of winter and Canberra was being lashed with driving rain when he dispatched one of his staff, Alan Penton, on the delivery assignment. It was pitch dark by the time Penton arrived at the Wilson home and, in the icy conditions, Picken believes Penton decided to take a short cut to the front door rather than take the path around the pool. The result was probably inevitable.

  The first Picken heard was a phone call from Lady Wilson to explain she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry when she answered the door to the bedraggled figure of Penton standing there, soaking wet, mud from head to foot, but holding aloft the still-dry satchel containing the board papers.

  ‘She invited him in to dry off but he’d replied the rain would wash the mud off anyway and retreated into the night.’

  When Picken broached the subject with Penton next morning and asked him what he thought of the front garden, Penton replied it had been ‘too dark to see much’.

  ‘He obviously didn’t want to talk about it,’ says Picken.

  The tale was another to enter the Qantas legend, albeit one of the few snippets of humour ever associated with stories about Wilson, although a select few can recall one visit to New York where his former role as secretary of the Treasury helped him out of a tight spot. Wilson needed money, so a New York staffer was directed to accompany him to a nearby bank where he could cash his traveller’s cheques. But when he signed the cheques and the teller asked for identification Wilson discovered he had left his passport back at the Qantas office. There followed moments of embarrassment as the bank teller repeatedly declined to accept the staffer’s assurance as to the identity of his chairman, until Wilson asked to be shown an Australian bank note. When a note was produced Wilson jabbed his finger at the signature on the note: ‘That’s me, secretary of the Australian Treasury.’

  The signatures matched and the bank cashed the cheques.

  After the death of the first Lady Wilson in a motor accident in Mexico in 1972, Joyce Chivers became the second Lady Wilson in 1975.

  At least Wilson’s successor, in 1973, Donal
d George Anderson, as a former director of the Department of Civil Aviation (DCA), had aviation experience.

  ‘DG’, as he was known by those who worked with him, arrived at Qantas after sixteen years leading the DCA and at a time when the Whitlam government and its transport minister, Charles Jones, were anxious to merge the DCA and the shipping and ground transport arms into one mega-department. Jones’s problem therefore was how to move the highly regarded Anderson out of the way without creating unnecessary problems for himself throughout the industry. Legend has it that when Whitlam asked Jones what they would need to offer Anderson to smooth the way, Jones suggested the chairmanship of Qantas, knowing Anderson would be quick to accept.

  Jones may also have been aware of what others close to Anderson had known for some time—that the years of arguing with a succession of ministers and struggling against the relentless political influence of tough airline chiefs like Eddie Connellan and his supporters within Jack McEwen’s Country Party and Sir Reginald Ansett’s Liberal Party connections had taken their toll on Anderson.

  Late in 1973, with Wilson’s term about to end, Jones summoned Anderson to his Parliament House office and the pair went to see Whitlam. They were back in Jones’s office 30 minutes later and Anderson broke the news to two of his close advisers that he had accepted the Qantas chairmanship: ‘I’m just tired of feeding pearls to swine.’

  It was a comment somewhat out of character for Anderson, but an indication of his weariness and frustration with the political system he had operated under for so many years. His health was already deteriorating when he joined Qantas. He served only two years as chairman, resigning shortly before his death at 58 in December 1975.

  Anderson’s successor, Cyrus Lenox Simson Hewitt, already a member of the board, would turn out to be one of the more controversial appointments. Often cited as a protégé of Sir Roland Wilson, Hewitt fought an at times courageous battle, often in international forums, against the onslaught of the low-cost fares offered by charter operators that full-service airlines like Qantas, with their higher cost structures, would struggle to match. At the same time he immersed himself in the minutest detail of Qantas’s operations, such as persistent questioning of the airline’s catering.