AUNT DAISY SAYS “GOOD MORNING” FOR 21 YEARS

Press, Volume XCVI, Issue 28446, 28 November 1957, Page 2

AUNT DAISY SAYS “GOOD MORNING” FOR 21 YEARS

When a diminutive woman l mounted the dais at Government House last year to be invested M.8.E., there was an apparent pause in the proceedings. Then a whisper went round the room. “It’s Aunt Daisy.” Her daughter. Miss Barbara Basham, thought at the time this; was rather unseemly in such : a dignified hush. But the incident, related by A. S. Fry in “The Aunt Daisy Story,” was merely the spontaneous reaction of a group of people to a remarkable radio personality, whom they held in deep affection. Miss Barbara Basham need not have felt embarrassed, for the Governor-General (then Sir Willoughby Norrie) promptly widened the chink in the armour of protocol, the author says. As he stepped forward to pin the ribbon on her, his Excellency leaned forward a little and whispered, “Bravo, Aunt Daisy.” Many radio listeners have marvelled that one woman could maintain such a cheery, vivacious half-hour session each week-day morning for 21 years. But those who have wondered have probably not met Mrs Maud Ruby (“Daisy’/) Basham. Radio’s “First Lady”

In a true-to-life portrait of Aunt Daisy the author gives many indications of her irresistible characteristics; and he has caught the quicksilver personality of the froman for long enough to examine.

“Devout without being righteous, she carried into everyday living all the hopeful and rewarding tenets of her faith,” the author says. “She preserves the child’s infinite capacity for wonder and delight in simple things, and, if the seeds of boredom lie within the self, has ensured that hers remain unfertilised. Her inward qualities of intelligence, strength and resilience are expressed outw’ardly as a vivacity, force and charm that few, if any, can resist.”

Day Begins at 4 a.m. A will to give of her best, sincerity and sheer hard work come into her success story, too. The day begins at 4 a.m. for Aunt Daisy with a cup of tea in bed. “Soon after the news at night I begin settling down, but I may tell you I very frequently get up in the night and make a cup of tea,” she said to the author. Tea is an important factor in her life, and when she advertises a particular brand listeners may be sure she knows it well. When she arrived in San Francisco on her war-time visit to the United States she was told she had a press conference in 15 minutes. She was horrified. “I couldn’t face a press conference without a cup of tea,” she protested. The brew she drank was made in a tooth-glass from a packet of tea she carried with her and water from the hdt tap over her hotel wash basin. On other tours, in wine or coffee drinking countries,’ she always took the precaution of keeping her own packet of tea handy.

Although Aunt Daisy’s life story has been published to celebrate 21 years in commercial broadcasting, she has actuaUy been in radio for 27 years. Head in Horn

The first of her broadcasts came as a result of her talent as a singer. While she was in Wellington for a concert engagement she was asked to help with an experiment. “For my *first broadcast I put my head almost inside a big horn, like the H.M.V. dog, and sang ‘Il Bacio,’ ” she recalls. Radio became a job to her because there was a depression on, her husband—a county engineer—was put on half pay and later lost his position altogether; their three children were stiU at school. It was a battle establishing her-

self in radio. But Daisy Basham was used to fighting for'what she wanted, as a child, a teacher and young mother. “She is one of the world’s battlers; a small, determined figure who refuses to see in personal misfortune reason either to doubt her faith in an omnipotent God, or to doubt the faith God gave her in herself,” says the author. Cannot Cycle “Daisy Bell,” the old music haU number which heralds her morning session, might have been written for Miss Daisy Taylor before she married Mr Frederick Basham. But there is one discrepancy. She cannot ride a bicycle, whether built for one or two. Her husband bought her a cycle at one tifne, hoping it might improve a bout of sciatica, but Daisy was terrified of the thing. She would fall off with fright. “Dad had to sell it. I did not ride it once,” she says. Publication of “The Aunt Daisy Story” was prompted by the “New Zealand Listener,” which ran it recently in serial, form. Illustrated with nearly 40 photographs throughout its 131 pages, the book is published by A. H. and A. W. Reed.