by Paul Little
Ed’s other major concern when considering the job was that he would be allowed to absent himself to carry out his aid work in Nepal, and Lange was happy to agree to that.
There was one other slight speed bump: June. The two were now so close that the thought of a long separation was not a happy one. Ed wanted June to accompany him but, true to form when it came to intimate communication, couldn’t bring himself to ask her. She was left to intuit his feelings on the matter. In the end she suggested the arrangement. After another phone call to Lange, checking whether it would be all right for Ed to take along an official companion—which it was—everything was settled.
For the media in New Zealand, June was coy. On a visit home during which she was planning to organise another of her group treks to Nepal, she was asked about marriage plans by the New Zealand Woman’s Weekly. She and Ed had been in India less than a year at this point. ‘I have frustrated other journalists, so I may as well frustrate you too,’ responded June. ‘I am Sir Edmund’s official hostess, official companion, that is my designation in India. In fact, my identity card even has OC printed on it.’
She went on to clarify: ‘Louise Hillary was what I would like to have called my best friend. Peter, my husband, was in the Antarctic with Ed. We were a foursome for donkey’s years so it [the role as companion] seems to fall into place quite happily. In India, I am Sir Edmund’s official companion and socially that is totally acceptable.’
Indians are conservative in matters of personal morality and that attitude extends to New Zealand high commissioners and their partners. Family friend and former governor-general, Dame Cath Tizard, is sure that the locals would have been more comfortable if the New Zealand High Commissioner and his consort had arrived united in holy wedlock.
‘I don’t think people said, “You can’t come to this function unless you produce a marriage certificate,” ’ jokes Ken Richardson, who visited Delhi with David Lange, ‘but the Indians have been for centuries under a very Victorian regime and maybe they inherited a lot of those attitudes. But of course it is gone now. The rumour was that the Indians would prefer them to be married, but I’ve never seen anything in writing.’
It’s not clear why—given that they did get married eventually—the pair did not formalise things at this point. They may not have been ready, but the likelier explanation is the one that Ed expressed freely on the occasion of their nuptials in 1989: it wasn’t necessary. He couldn’t see the point. They were fine as they were. And at least this way, when they finally did get married, it wasn’t so Ed would be eligible for a job.
Other diplomats expressed envy—they said they would have liked to have brought their secretaries, but hadn’t been allowed.
‘He was really pleased she was going,’ says Hilary Carlisle. ‘But I think the relationship cemented more to the possibility of a long-term relationship in India. They were a great team in India; they worked well together.’ And, somewhat romantically, every morning they could they walked together in Delhi’s beautiful Lodhi Gardens.
Their de facto status created some problems for the old India hands, but when they annoyed Ed by relegating June to the background when he presented his credentials to the president, they created a problem for themselves.
Ed adjusted well to the intricacies of diplomatic etiquette in general, though he struggled somewhat in Nepal when he presented his credentials there. Not only did he have to cope without the support of June—women being prohibited from the occasion—but he had to leave the royal presence walking backwards. ‘I don’t know much about backing out,’ he said.
Naomi Lange got to observe Ed at work—and the drawing power of the magic name—in the early days. ‘Ed seemed like he was in full control. He was a beacon. People would go to the High Commission for functions and there would be more prominent people there because it was him. You need a name to do that—it is a huge country. New Zealand is a minnow and overshadowed because of our size in the Commonwealth. That’s why Ed was so important. So Ed spent a great deal of his time travelling, hosting functions and just talking about New Zealand. He took the flag to various parts of India.’
Ed stayed in the job for four and a half years. He turned up at the office every day, taken by his driver, and with the help of his PA dealt with the correspondence, requests and invitations. He often went home for lunch and returned to the office before heading out again for one or two evening functions.
Ed was the familiar face that businesspeople were thrilled to see at trade talks. If the government really wanted to impress somebody, the high commissioner might take them on a trek. He could also turn his hand to judging an International Mango Festival, if called upon. ‘If the Foreign Minister of India wanted to discuss something about New Zealand,’ says Ken Richardson, ‘Ed would have to front up. He couldn’t send a deputy.’ Which might sound like a tall order for the ‘ex-beekeeper from New Zealand’. ‘I don’t think it came easy to him,’ says Richardson, ‘because he was basically a shy person. There are very few people, except those who started off with diplomatic lives and rose through the ranks, who can master the art of diplomacy. The best thing to do is to keep your mouth shut half the time.’
Keeping his mouth shut wasn’t Ed’s forte, but in this case he grasped the essentials and grew into the position quickly. If ever he should have failed at something in his life, it was this—a role for which he was apparently professionally unsuited—but in fact he had far greater failures on mountains than he ever had at the New Zealand High Commission in Delhi.
‘He had great speech-making ability, so he was a wonderful guy to have along,’ says Gill, who also got to see Ed in action when Mike Dillon was filming him. ‘He didn’t have to do subtle diplomatic manoeuvrings about arranging a treaty between China and Nepal. I think Ed increasingly quite enjoyed being in Delhi. I think if you are in the limelight all the time, you miss it when it’s not there.’
After Ed’s death, Pat Booth received a letter from a woman who remembered seeing Ed in India. ‘She was at the airport and Ed was wheeling a New Zealand climber, who had been injured, up to the plane. She thought that spoke a lot about the relationship he had—not just with fellow climbers, but also with anyone in trouble.’
Peter Hillary wasn’t surprised that he was able to adapt to the job. ‘I think as a young man he wouldn’t have been an appropriate choice,’ he says, ‘but later in life he had the ability to speak, to meet all sorts of people, be a tactical thinker about how to solve various problems. He was also a very sophisticated operator dealing with people and cultures.
‘He had techniques. If he didn’t know exactly what was going on, Ed had a very congenial way of just sitting back and letting things move around, if he didn’t understand what they were talking about, instead of putting his foot right in it. I think he was often quite good at thinking “I will just quietly sit back on this one.” ’
Both Peter and Sarah acknowledge, though, that Ed was there because of the power of his name rather than the quality of his diplomatic skills. ‘Obviously, in an embassy,’ says Sarah, ‘you have all sorts of other staff who deal with trade and those areas of expertise. They needed Ed to get back in.’
‘Dad could assist in various areas,’ adds Peter, ‘but in terms of breaking the ice and getting New Zealand back into one of the biggest, most important countries on earth with diplomatic representation, it was pretty phenomenal.’
As he had with other endeavours, Ed combined prodigious planning with a capacity to make things up as he went along. As the titular head of the High Commission, he met regularly with diplomatic assistants for briefings. ‘He took advice,’ says Tom Scott. ‘He wasn’t arrogant. “What should we do?” “That sounds good.” If he thought he was right about something, he took a bit of shifting. But he was a reasonable, intelligent man and the Indians were delighted.’
Ed’s name had been revered in India for more than 30 years by the time of his appointment—worshipped by many as, if not a living god, then at
least the reincarnation of a god. The Indians were ecstatic to have him there. Other countries with diplomatic representation in Delhi might have had more trade power, more geopolitical influence and more money to throw around; but New Zealand had Ed Hillary. As Mike Dillon noted: ‘It’s very clever to have a god as your high commissioner.’
He was also popular for what he wasn’t. ‘If you look at the history of high commissioners,’ says Richardson, ‘invariably they have been politicians.’ Skills, Richardson seems to suggest, were the least of it. ‘He was welcomed everywhere. They just laid out the red carpet for him. They vaguely thought he was part Indian.’ In local eyes, the choice also reflected well on India—New Zealand had gone from treating Indian diplomatic relations with utter contempt, to paying it the ultimate compliment of sending its greatest citizen to live among them.
Ed had been in the job less than a year when Tenzing Norgay died. On this occasion, he and June did ignore the advice that he not try to attend the funeral because of political unrest in the area. As they headed towards Darjeeling, Tenzing’s home, accompanied by an army captain and driver, their way was blocked by an angry crowd. The captain told the mob who was in the vehicle and why, and hearing the name was enough. The crowd parted to let Ed and June through.
One important initiative carried out under Ed’s supervision was the commissioning of new buildings for the vacant lot at Chanakyapuri. Christchurch architect Miles Warren was given the job of designing the new complex. The imperial English architect Edwin Lutyens was responsible for the look of New Delhi—having based his designs on ancient Mughal architecture. Warren’s design in turn mirrored this look.
Ed and June made suggestions as work progressed, but the couple never got to take up residence in the Warren building, which did not open until 1992. For a time, while their official residence was being renovated, under June’s supervision, they lived in the Sheraton Hotel. When they finally moved back, June described their kitchen as being the same size as her small Auckland home, but she was thrilled to discover local craftsmen who could make furniture to her requirements.
June took her role as official companion seriously. By all accounts, Ed could no more have managed his work in Delhi without her than he could have lifted himself out of his old depression single-handed. ‘June was extremely careful to be at Ed’s side all the time,’ says Richardson. ‘I noticed also—and this is always a difficulty for famous people—that people came up to them and expected them to know who they were; and June invariably knew. I have heard her on a number of occasions saying to Ed as she saw someone approaching them—even me—she would say, “Do you remember Ken?” I don’t think Ed would have got past first base in India as high commissioner unless he had had that support from June.’
Hilary Carlisle agrees: ‘June did a fantastic job with setting up the High Commission there and making it work, managing that social stuff. They were very popular diplomats and of course they used to take other diplomats on trips, expeditions and adventures. They were a good team in India . . .’
June even learnt to drive—a hair-raising pastime in Delhi—putting to rest any last doubts about whether she had the courage and adventurous spirit to match Ed’s own. And the Indians took to June in this role, just as their counterparts had taken to her in Nepal. ‘Effectively, she was the Memsahib who had to manage the servants, the entertaining, the catering,’ says Gill. ‘It was a big job, very important, and June did it well. She is also organised, and she probably liked the entertainment side of it. You didn’t have to peel the spuds, but you had to tell them what to cook. I think she was very proud of what she did there.’ June reported that, when she got back to New Zealand, she had forgotten how to make a white sauce.
One obligation was that every country had to turn up at every other country’s national day. With 130 nations represented, that was a fair chunk of the social year automatically taken care of.
June did her bit representing New Zealand. In 1985 she had told the Woman’s Weekly: ‘I’m very nice to Cook because we haven’t had a meal from him yet. He doesn’t speak English unfortunately, but I have communicated with him and explained the sort of things Sir Edmund likes, which are basic things like a good stew and plenty of potatoes.’ But by 2007, speaking to the Listener, she seemed to have come a long way. She then recalled: ‘It was a big help that the Indians were very, very kind to us. And I enjoyed the Indian women. I was on all sorts of committees, which was an experience I’ll never forget. Everybody is the chairperson on a committee in India.’
She described those years as ‘probably the happiest time we had together’.
CHAPTER 14
TRUST IN TURMOIL
The Himalayan Trust, Ed’s informal charity which started its life modestly with the aim of helping the Sherpas of the Solukhumbu with some basic facilities, has grown into a multifarious, sprawling collection of organisations around the world, including the Hillary Himalayan Foundation, the American Himalayan Foundation, the Sir Edmund Hillary Foundation of Canada, the Australian Himalayan Foundation, the Himalayan Trust UK (founded by members of the 1953 expedition) and the Sir Edmund Hillary Foundation of Germany.
There is no doubt that his ongoing humanitarian work in Nepal was seen by Ed as his greatest achievement. He intended it to be his legacy; and he went to some lengths to put that on the record when being interviewed by Mark Sainsbury in 1991. ‘When the camera was rolling, Ed made a solemn declaration: “When I kick the bucket, I don’t want memorials. I don’t want statues. I just want the work to continue.” ’
But Ed’s vision for what the Trust would be after his death—and who would be running it—would be a major source of contention. As well as continuing Ed’s work, the New Zealand-based Himalayan Trust also provided a means by which family conflicts were acted out. Various parties took on the roles of antagonists, peacekeepers and bridge-builders with varying degrees of success. These currents swirled around Ed but, so long as he was alive, they were contained because of respect for him and his reputation. After his death, they spilled into the open and brought many long-concealed differences to a head.
The greatest question around all this is why Ed Hillary, the leader of men who could inspire others to do so much, could not settle a simple, all-too-common family squabble. But the fact is that, for the last few years of his life, he was simply too old—these were the years when people made efforts to keep conflicts away from him.
However, the conflict between Peter and June—which was Ed’s problem too—had been there from early on. Unfortunately, each of the three people concerned was unusually strong-willed. It was no doubt easier day-by-day to pretend it didn’t exist, rather than confront this difficulty. Ed’s absences in India and Nepal also meant it could simply be ignored for long periods of time. And Ed was never comfortable expressing himself except in letters, or in a burst of temper. He may simply not have known what to say. However, failing to deal with this conflict would lead to deep divisions within the Himalayan Trust; and a public squabble after his death that did nothing to enhance Ed’s legacy.
June had been there at the start of Ed’s work in Nepal. In early 1961, visiting with Louise and other wives of members of the Himalayan Scientific and Mountaineering Expedition of 1960–61, she had literally put in some hard yards, completing a 290-kilometre trek. And when she and Ed were together, just as Louise had done before her, June practised hands-on humanitarianism. ‘At Phaplu Hospital,’ she told ABC’s Foreign Correspondent, ‘I remember painting the whole kitchen, inside the cupboards. The paint was awful and the brushes were hard to work with.’
The pace never let up. Ed had insisted that they be allowed time in Nepal to carry on their work while he was high commissioner in India. Travel was a constant. ‘Ed and June went around the world fundraising year after year,’ says Murray Jones. ‘It was bloody hard work. Ed was quite nervous with travelling. He got anxious about that sort of thing. He wanted to do everything right, so it was quite hard work for him as he g
ot older.’
Peter and Sarah, too, had been involved with the Trust from early days. It was widely, but by no means universally, accepted that Peter would take over leadership of the Trust in due course. June, for example, was another strong candidate.
‘Many of us thought it was Peter’s legacy anyway,’ says Graeme Dingle, ‘so that created a tension. Had they got on, it would have been clear to June that that’s what should have happened in the long term, but the other thing that we can’t possibly know is what Ed said to June.’
According to Tom Scott, who remains one of June’s greatest admirers, there were also external cultural obstacles that had to be taken into account. ‘June has been astonishing and done great work,’ says Scott, ‘and the Sherpas know that. But it’s a patriarchal society and Peter Hillary is the son and they probably would prefer Peter—he’s younger and fitter—to take over. And Peter would like to take over.’ Peter echoes Scott’s opinion. ‘A lot of people in Nepal, which is a very traditional community, see it in that light. I have a lot to offer in that area. I am on the boards of most of the supporting foundations. I have done a lot of fundraising for the Himalayan Trust. I work with the British and German foundations as well.’
Like any organisation populated by the sort of people who can get up mountains and to the South Pole, the Trust has always been subject to numerous internal tensions driven by the strong personalities involved. One of its first directors to resign, in fact, was Peter Mulgrew who, as we have already seen, was agitating for a more rigorous, business-like approach to the financial side. He had been one of the original members when the Trust was founded in 1966. ‘Mulgrew put demands on Hillary,’ says Norm Hardie, a 22-year veteran of the Trust. ‘He told Ed to put things in order, have proper minutes in the meetings. Mulgrew was the first of the original board members to withdraw and it was Hillary’s lack of business ability and poorly run meetings that caused all of it.’