The ODD ANGLE

Auckland Star, Volume LXXIII, Issue 200, 25 August 1942, Page 2

The ODD ANGLE

(By MacCLURE)

• IX AUCKLAND In the spring a young man's fancy used to lightly turn to love — ©r so we are given to believe by a midVictorian gentleman who wrote many poems on the subject of love. Few except foolish young people "lightly" turn to love nowadays — in Auckland, at any rate. "Love" has, almost overnight, it would seem, fled — scared stiff by certain statistics offered by certain churchmen to uncertain lovers. "The canopy" which one Shelley tells us "love has spread to curtain her sleeping world," has been torn ruthlessly aside by those who see nothing sacred in this "loving business" — nothing but lust, more lust, disease, and increasing disease. And heaps of beer bottles. And many other horrible things. In this "City of Dreadful Night," right here in Auckland, there exists "another Auckland —a filthy Auckland"—one that the poet Kipling never dreamt of — one that should be (according to these same churchmen) "cleaned up." And we who don't know this, we who do not accept this propaganda to bring pressure upon the Government are— well, one of us, anyway, is said to possess a "brazen effrontery and impudence" in trying to "bluff" Aucklanders that these things do not exist.

Thank goodness for that "brazen effrontery," then, that permits me to say that the electors who repudiated prohibition at the last election will not have it foisted upon them now even if their campaign is launched on a Sabbath by churchmen at a meeting opened with prayer, interlarded with hymns, and concluded with resolutions carried by the congregations of the churches. For that is the plain truth of the matter as I see it. We who were left guessing as to why, all of a sudden, this "immorality" bombshell was dropped in our midst, know now that three different things, the increase in immorality, increase in the spread of venereal disease, and the necessity for increased efficiency in these war times, were run together in the public mind to form one connected whole and form a base for an attack on the liquor traffic. Clever—but not clever enough! • "THE BOSS" And right bere I must find room for a word or two about liquor and those who lawfully manufacture it, dispense it, and (don't shudder!) drink it, if only to try and convince narrower • minded ones that the folks engaged in all these three processes are not necessarily depraved, "filthy," "evil," or even plain, ordinary "wicked" as a result of coming in contact with "the devil's brew" which, as you have been assured, is responsible for the "dreadful" state of our city to-day. I might say, in extenuation, I worked two years in a brewery — now I have let the cat out of the bag with a vengeance! As a matter of fact, my employer was the real head of a Congregational Church, a man much beloved, a warm - hearted man who gave a job to every derelict who needed a helping hand — and there were many in that southern city, I can assure you. • AND THE FOREMAN Our foreman was an old retired ship's captain nearing 80, a Godfearing man who sang hymns as he measured out the ingredients of "the devil's brew." It was he who tried his best to "save" me, although, then, I never knew I was lost. The foreman was a rich baritone, but very poor, whom the "boss" had picked up, made a job for, and "used" in the church choir. Naturally most of us went to the boss' church, Bible class, tea meetings, anniversaries, and the like. This is strict fact—provable, although admittedly merely personal; still, it just shows one must not scream out loud all the time or throw too much mud; a little investigation might reveal that others engaged in this "nefarious traffic" are human, too. • AND THOSE WHO DRINK THE STUFF As for those who drink the "filthy" stuff I don't think I'd better say anything. This afternoon, a dear old chappie babbled about "hot toddy" while he ran the liquor traffic down to pot. Previously I mentioned a parson who used to send me for his whisky—he was very, very, particular; it had to be "Irish"—of a certain brand. In fairness, I must say I did not see him on the platform—or some others—on the platform last Sunday. It's when the workers—the common herd—drink— ah, my friends, if you but knew the sorrow and the misery and the degradation it causes them. But, cocktails and high-balls, a drop of gin, a hot toddy—or even champagne —yes—that's different. Anyway there is too much drinking these days—by all classes. Which is not to say that those who do not drink should enforce prohibition on those who, by their vote, have declared against it. Stricter control, yes. State control of the traffic? Well you've seen fruit and vegetables— particularly potatoes — controlled. And a few other things; and I don't think you d swop over in a hurry.